


Take the Current

by lobstergirl



Series: Of Hope and Strength [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Han Solo Lives, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobstergirl/pseuds/lobstergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Hux hears is the sound of a planet falling apart. All he sees is the dancing cone of light coming from his torch. As he stares up into the sky, realisation crushes down on him.<br/>The First Order is done with its most powerful weapon and its most ruthless general. Kylo Ren and General Hux have been left behind to die along with the planet that has failed to serve its purpose.<br/>Of all the ways he imagined he would go, he wouldn’t have thought he’d be sitting on a collapsing planet, with only the unconscious Ren by his side. Had they been given the chance, they might have made a good team one day. Had they met under different circumstances, they might have become friends. And who knows, maybe even more.<br/>But it’s too late now. </p>
<p>Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For Susanne. I miss you.

 

“Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you. You know it’s true.”

The two men on the bridge across the oscillator stare at each other.

“It’s too late,” the younger man says mulishly but his voice is not entirely steady.

“No, it’s not. Leave here with me. Come home. We miss you.” The other man’s weathered face shows a mix of sorrow, concern and a dash of hope as he walks up to the younger man.

Tears well up in the young man’s eyes. He blinks them away, seems angry at himself for such an untimely display of unwanted emotion.

“I’m being torn apart,” he says. “I want to be free of this pain. I know what I have to do but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?”

The older man doesn’t waver. “Yes. Anything.” His voice is firm and his gaze is calm as he watches the young man remove his lightsabre from his belt and offer it to him. He takes it and something like uncertainty darts across his face. It’s gone in a heartbeat and he grips the weapon’s hilt.

Their eyes lock.

The younger man’s lower lip trembles, he blinks some more but doesn’t let go of the weapon. They look at each other for what seems like an eternity. Then, in a split second, a decision is made. The older man gives an almost imperceptible nod and allows the lightsabre to be yanked out of his hand.

“Run,” the young man hisses and ignites the weapon. “Run!”

The other man staggers back. His eyes widen but then he nods and without another word turns around and flees.

Something hits the young man and he falters, clutching his side. There’s blood on his glove. He falls to his knees and looks up. Above him, on a rail, stands a Wookiee, howling, mad with rage. He must have fired the second the lightsabre powered up.

“He’s alive, you stupid shit,” the man shouts.

The Wookiee waves his bowcaster, giving a triumphant yodel. The man still understands enough of his language to catch the meaning.

“So are you.”

Kylo Ren gets to his feet, fuming. He let his father go but he _will_ get the girl. He will not fail his master twice.


	2. Chapter 2

Hux stands before the larger than life holo transmission of Snoke who eyes him with barely concealed disdain. He swallows uneasily but there’s no way around it.

“Supreme Leader, the fuel cells have ruptured. The collapse of the planet has begun.”

“Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren. It is time… to complete his training.”

Hux gives a brisk nod. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

He turns on his heels and heads for the exit but before he reaches it, he’s Force-held in place.

“General,” the voice is uncomfortably close, “I trust you won’t fail me a second time.”

“No, Supreme Leader,” he manages. It comes out as a croak and he hates himself for it.

“Good. Now go.”

The instant his body is his own to command, he all but bolts from the room.

 

Despite the tracker attached to his belt, Kylo Ren is harder to find than expected. Not only are the comm signals disrupted but the planet’s imminent collapse is making it difficult to navigate the shuttle. There’s rifts opening beneath them, causing avalanches, there’s trees not falling but flying around everywhere and the wind is building up to soon become a storm. It’s an image of utter and irrevocable destruction, exceedingly painful to watch. Hux had such grand plans for this place, has hoped to achieve something truly great on and with Starkiller and now it’s all falling apart. With some effort, he suppresses a sigh, averts his gaze and schools his features into an impassive mask. This is neither the time nor the place for retrospection or regret. He has a mission to complete, and complete it he will.

For a while he listens to the multilingual swearing coming from the cockpit but when it won’t stop, he unbuckles and gets out of his seat. He does share the pilot’s sentiments, he really does. He’s had to fight a strong urge to do some serious swearing himself ever since he’s buckled himself into the shuttle’s passenger seat but he cannot allow discipline to slip, and so he makes his way to the bow where the pilot is seated. The bumpy ride makes it near impossible to maintain his usual straight-backed posture but at least he doesn’t lose his balance.

“Remember who you are, soldier,” he says icily. “You have your orders. You can complain all you want after Lord Ren has been delivered to the Supreme Leader. Until then, do as you’re told and do it silently!”

“Sir,” the pilot acknowledges, her eyes not leaving her instruments. Hux shoots her one last glare, then heads back to his seat. He fastens his seatbelts and stares straight ahead, careful not to move a single muscle in his face, well aware that he’s being closely watched by the Stormtroopers assigned to carry this task out with him.

This whole mess is all Ren’s fault. Well, maybe not all of it but he’s sure played a major role in this epic failure. What’s so hard about finding one kriffing droid? But no, he comes back with some scavenger girl. Because she’s _seen_ the map. He suppresses a snort. What good is that, compared to a droid whose memory’s been fed the exact data they need? Has he seriously expected to extract it from her brain with that Force of his? And not only has he failed to do that, no, he’s let her escape, too.

And now it’s up to him to retrieve Snoke’s pet. Pick up the pieces, as usual. Splendid. Just splendid.

“Sir, we have a signal,” comes a voice from the second shuttle, interrupting his moment of self-pity. “Sending coordinates now.”

“Roger,” the pilot says. “Got it. Approaching target. Sir?”

“Proceed,” Hux orders. “The sooner we find him, the sooner we can leave.”

“Aye sir.”

Finally. He exhales. Pick up Ren, get the fuck away from Starkiller.

 

They find Ren lying near a rift. He’s unconscious and badly wounded, but he’s alive and that’s what counts for now. His lightsabre is nowhere near in sight. Hux notices at once because Ren never goes anywhere without that thing clipped to his belt. He probably sleeps with it, too.

“You two, NH-2311 and PH-1970,” he says, pointing at two troopers who have advanced medical training, “get the stretcher at once and bring the medkit, too. Lord Ren’s health and safety are of paramount importance. Hurry!”

He then signals for a third trooper, WI-1313, to accompany him while he goes looking for Ren’s lightsabre. If the thing gets lost, the collapse of Starkiller will be nothing compared to the temper tantrum Ren will have when he finds out. Hopefully it hasn’t fallen into the rift, and hopefully they’ll find it soon because there is not much time left. Pulling his command cap down and pushing the collar of his greatcoat up, he starts trudging through the snow, his torchlight providing just enough light to see what’s directly before his feet. He soon loses sight of WI-1313.

His patience, of which there is not an awful lot left, is beginning to wear even thinner when--there! The bloody sabre is stuck at an impossible angle between the roots of an overthrown tree. Of course it would be stuck. It’s Ren’s. Why would anything concerning him be easy? Hux gets on his toes to get a better look at the thing and how best to grab for it. He has never really looked at it from up close and sure as kark doesn’t want to end up at the wrong side of it, so he’ll have to be extra careful. No sudden movements, no violent pulling. He puts the torchlight between his teeth and with a bit of careful jiggling and some foul language--unintelligibly sputtered around the torch in his mouth but heartfelt nevertheless--the sabre comes free and he fastens it to his belt, relieved.

“Weapon secured,” he says into his comm link. “Returning to shuttle. Prepare for immediate take-off.”

There’s no reply, only some static noise which is probably due to Starkiller’s failing infrastructure but when he returns to the shuttles’ coordinates, there is… nothing. No shuttles. No troopers. No stretcher. Only the motionless shape of Kylo Ren who appears to be still unconscious. Some sort of small trunk has been dumped on the ground next to him.

“What the-–,” Hux starts and looks up to the sky. Above the trees and definitely not headed his direction are the lights of two shuttles, getting smaller and smaller the farther they disappear into the darkness. “What the bloody buggering fucking _fuck_?” He opens the comm line. “What is going on? Report at once!”

More static.

“NH-2311. PH-1970. What’s happening? Over.”

The static dies. All he hears is the sound of a planet falling apart. It’s almost obscene, groaning and hissing. All he sees is the dancing cone of light coming from his torch. It’s mocking him.

As he stares up into the sky, realisation crushes down on him.

Kylo Ren and General Hux are being left behind to die along with the planet. The First Order is done with its most powerful weapon and its most ruthless general.

Hux very much doubts that this was his officers’ idea. His personal staff is hand-picked and he trusts them as much as he trusts anyone. Which is, not much. But he can rely on them, or so he has thought until now. He and Ren must have failed the Supreme Leader in ways that are beyond absolution. Hux knows his greatest failure; he still feels the raging pain of shame and embarrassment in his chest-–but what was Ren’s? What has Ren done-–apart from not delivering the girl-–that’s earned him being ditched like a broken toy?

Suddenly his legs give out and he sinks to his knees. So this is it? Just like that? That’s not how he imagined this day to end when he left his quarters this morning.

“ _Snoke_ ,” he screams against the howling wind. “If you hear me, Snoke, fuck you! I hate you! You pathetic, cowardly, fucking _fuck_!”

He rages some more, then his strength leaves him and he sags forward, comes to lie with his face in the snow, drawing stuttering breaths. Above him, the wind howls, making the trees rustle and creak, laughing at him. _Look at the fearsome general_ , it sings, _look at him. How much longer before he cries for his mother?_

Leave me, Hux thinks. Just leave me alone.

The ground beneath him shifts as the rift is coming nearer. He feels it more than he actually sees it in the near darkness and he scratches up just enough energy to get up. He will not slide into the planet’s mouth lying on his belly like some shivering worm. When he dies, he will die with as much dignity as he can muster. And that includes not leaving his crew behind. And that means Ren. Strictly speaking, Ren is not precisely part of his crew as he doesn’t answer to him but he is-–was-–one member of the _Finalizer’s_ and Starkiller’s unofficial command triumvirate of which Hux holds the highest military rank, and that makes Ren his responsibility. Hux has never run from his responsibilities and he doesn’t plan to run now.

He fights his way to where Ren is lying and, positioning himself behind him, locks his arms under his armpits and in front of his chest, grunts with the effort of lifting the other man up. Ren is no more than one or two fingerbreadth taller than Hux but he’s a lot bigger and broader and in his unconscious state seems to weigh as much as five average sized human males. But he manages, drags him far enough away from the widening rift and leans him against an uprooted tree. Is it the one that held the lightsabre? Does it matter? There’s plenty of uprooted trees and there’ll be more with every minute that passes.

He returns to collect the trunk. It’s pointless, yes, but he feels an irrational urge to have it by his side, this last piece of the life he used to have, and the trunk has the _Finalizer’s_ emblem on it, too.

Then he settles down by Ren’s side, his back against the tree, the trunk sitting next to him. He glances over at Ren, checks if he’s still breathing, gives in to another crazy impulse-–but who’s here to judge him?-–and pulls him against his chest.

“Would you have believed it,” he says, “that it’d the two of us in the end? I mean, of all the ways I imagined I would go, I wouldn’t have thought I’d be left behind on a collapsing planet with only you by my side.” He brushes Ren’s wet hair out of his face and inspects the ugly gash across his face. It will leave quite a scar if he doesn’t get medical attention soon-–whatever. They’re not going anywhere. Why worry about scars.

Ren looks very young lying in his arms like that, peaceful even. There’s not even the slightest resemblance to the masked, ill-tempered giant whose infamous tantrums resulted in Stormtroopers leaving their station more often than not for fear they’d catch his attention, and his ship being wilfully damaged at more or less regular intervals. His ship. The _Finalizer_. He smiles. The day he was given command over the huge Resurgent-class Star Destroyer was one of the proudest of his life. He remembers having to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from grinning like a fool. ‘See this, father? Not so useless anymore.’

“You know,” he tells Ren, “I think we might have made a good team one day. You’re a pompous shit with your mask and drama and all, but you’re good at what you do and I respect that. Maybe we could have found a way around our differences. When we first met I was so jealous of you and your super powers and how you managed to rise through the ranks just like that, just because the Force says you’re special.” He snorts. “The Force. I never really got it. But then I watched you and saw what it does to you and now I’m glad I wasn't... chosen by it. It’s a painful thing to have, right? That much power? I know a bit about being different, but I’m a normal kind of different, no Force or anything, just the great Brendol Hux’ bastard son. But you? I’ve seen you struggle when you think no-one’s looking and you know what? I pity you.”

He realises he’s started playing with a strand of Ren’s long, wet hair and hastily stops what he's doing. Not that anyone would notice, least of all Ren who still hasn’t stirred and probably won’t any time soon, but it’s still like being caught red-handed.

“Had we met under different circumstances, we might have become friends.” He puts his chin on Ren’s head and stares straight ahead, into the darkness. _And who knows, maybe even more._

He switches the torchlight off and closes his eyes. _Maybe even more._ Ren is striking when he’s not scowling, with unusual features and a huge, powerful body. Hux has seen him out of his suit only a couple of times, while he was practising his swordfight or working out in the closed-off section of the _Finalizer_. Ren was wearing light training gear then and he looked massive. His usual outfit somehow makes him appear slimmer than he really is. Moreover, he never grovels and that’s something that Hux really appreciates. Not that Ren would need to grovel to anyone. With the Force at his fingertips he can crush anyone he chooses, so why waste time on grovelling and political games? And yet, he’s never used his Force tricks on Hux, unless he was careful and discreet about it. The thought makes Hux chuckle into Ren’s hair. Discreet and careful. Right.

“Who knows,” he softly says, “who knows. But that’s an academic question, isn’t it. Guess we’ll never find out now.” He closes his arms around Ren’s chest. “But you know what? I’m glad you’re the one who’s here with me now, mate.”

How much longer? He thinks he can hear the rift coming closer but he’s not sure. He doesn’t care. There’s nothing he can do. He’s familiar with Starkiller’s topography, has memorised all the maps, knows every quadrant by heart and he knows there’s nowhere to run, no-one close enough to miraculously save them. There is no station nearby, not within walking distance anyway, and his comm link is dead. And even if he could run, he wouldn’t leave Ren behind.

_‘You don’t leave your team behind, you hear me, Armitage?’_

_‘Yes, father.’_

 

“Son? You hear me, son?”

Someone grabs Hux by his shoulder and roughly shakes him. He gives a start and blinks up.

“Father?”

He blinks some more. The face above him is hard to see because someone shines a bright light into his eyes but it’s not his father. He sees that now. The silhouette is all wrong. He feels strangely relieved by that.

“What the–-” He shields his eyes. “Take that out of my face, will you?”

The light swings to the side and the man’s face comes into focus. He looks vaguely familiar but Hux can’t place him.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he says with a mocking undertone. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s Re- my comrade who needs help. He’s unconscious and he’s been badly wounded.”

“I see that.” It sounds grim. The man straightens and calls something over his shoulder that sounds like _chewie_ , whatever that means. “Who else is with you?”

“No-one. Just the two of us.”

Behind the man, a huge furry creature appears. A Wookiee? Is that really a Wookiee?

“That’s right, Chewie, just the two of them. Take Ben to the _Falcon_.”

 _Ben_? The Wookiee--Chewie?-–gives a yodel-growl, bends down, pushes one long arm under Ren’s knees and the other around his shoulders. Hux lets go of Ren, oddly reluctant, and watches as the Wookiee lifts Ren up as if he’s a featherweight.

“Come,” the man offers him his hand and Hux gladly accepts it, lets himself be hauled up to his feet. “There’s no time to lose. Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He turns to go and Hux follows, then remembers the trunk.

“Wait,” he shouts and run-stumbles to collect the damn thing.

When he catches up the man gives him a look and shakes his head. “You’re kidding me, right? Brought an overnight bag?”

The ship sits at a rather adventurous angle on a clearing that’s barely big enough to hold it and Hux eyes it dubiously. As far as he can tell, it’s disc-shaped and looks like a gigantic piece of space junk, old and battered, but as long as it takes them away from here, it’ll do. The ramp is beginning to retract when he reaches it and he almost stumbles on his way up and into the ship where he’s met by a dark-skinned human male whose body goes rigid when he sees Hux. His features harden.

Hux narrows his eyes. Is that-–

“FN-2187?”

“The name’s Finn,” the former Stormtrooper snaps at him. “Follow me. I’m to take you to your quarters.”

“My-–quarters?”

“The space that’s been assigned to you until we reach our destination.”

“And when will that be?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Is there anyone qualified to answer that question?”

No reply. Fine.

He follows FN-2187 to a small cabin and peers inside.

“Where’s Ren?”

FN-2187 jerks his head towards the opposite door. “In there.”

“Good. That’s where I’ll be, then.”

“But Solo said-–” FN-2187 begins, then clamps his mouth shut, probably realising he should not have leaked that name.

“Solo, huh. Whatever. I’m staying with Ren. Out of the way, soldier.”

“I’m not taking orders from you anymore, Hux.” But he steps aside anyway. Decades of drill aren’t that easily wiped out, Hux notices with no small amount of satisfaction.

He brushes past him and opens the door to the other cabin. Ren lies stretched out on a narrow bed that’s barely more than a cot. He’s very pale and his breath is shallow.

“Is anyone on this ship who can tend to his injuries?” Hux asks over his shoulder.

“I’d say no but I’ll ask the captain.”

“Never mind. Get me a medkit. Quick.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, puts the trunk on the floor, takes off his command cap and greatcoat, removes his gloves and crouches down next to the cot.

He checks Ren’s pupil reflexes, then pulls off Ren's gloves and pushes his long sleeves up to take his pulse. It’s weak but steady. Good. The cut on his face is ugly but hardly life-threatening. If anything, it will make him look sinister and dangerous and Ren, with his flair for drama, may even like it that way. The cuts and burns on his right arm aren’t troubling, either, but there’s a wound on the left side of his abdomen that makes Hux draw a hissing breath as he leans closer to inspect it.

Behind him, somebody clears his throat. He turns around and sees the older man standing in the doorway, holding a bag.

“Is that a medkit?” Hux asks and the man-–Solo?-– nods.

“How is he?”

“I honestly don’t know. I will have to take a closer look at this wound first.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Stars no. I have some basic medical knowledge but it’s been years since I’ve had to tend to anyone that badly wounded and even then, I merely assisted a field surgeon. I have-–,” he breaks off, then corrects himself, “used to have med droids for that. Will you help me?”

Solo gives him a look that is hard to read. “That’s the second time someone’s asked me that today,” he says. “Yes, I will help you. What do you want me to do?”

“Help me turn him around and remove that belt. I think it’s fastened at the back.”

His guess is correct and together they remove the wide belt and the robe, too. The undershirt has to be cut open and Hux mutters a curse when he sees the whole extent of the wound. It’s a shot-wound and badly bruised around the edges, as if someone’s repeatedly beaten against it.

“Ah fuck,” Hux says. “That’s not a mere blaster shot. I wonder what did this.”

“A bowcaster,” Solo replies.

“Are you sure?”

“I am very sure. I even know who fired it.”

“I hope he rots in his own personal hell.”

“He doesn’t believe in hells but he is sorry for what he’s done. He did it to revenge me.”

“Revenge you?” Hux looks up. “But you’re pretty much alive, aren’t you?”

“He didn’t think so at the time.” Solo jerks his chin towards Ren. “Can you fix this?”

“I’m afraid not. I know next to nothing about abdominal wounds and I have no idea if there’s been any damage to his inner organs. I can clean it and apply a decent enough bandage but he urgently needs proper medical attention and a bacta tank.”

“I think they have a field bacta tank where I’m taking you,” Solo says, his eyes not leaving Ren’s face.

“And where is that?”

“That I can’t tell you. You’ll have to trust me for now, kid.”

 _Kid_. No-one has called him that since… well, for a very long time.

“Very well. It’s not as if I have any other choice, anyway.”

Solo gives a crooked grin. “Seems so. You do what you can do, alright? I’ll be in the cockpit. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

He waits until the door closes, then starts patching Ren up as best he can. Solo’s medkit is well equipped; he finds bacta patches and some lotion that he uses on the minor wounds. Bacta patches won’t stop the cuts from scarring but they’ll make for softer scar tissue and better overall healing. The abdominal wound is not as big as he first thought once it’s cleaned but it’s still worrying him and he doesn’t dare apply anything but a clean bandage.

When he’s done, he cleans his hands, removes his jacket and sits down on the floor next to Ren with his back against the wall and tries to wrap his thoughts around what happened today. What has he missed? Were there signs? Has he failed to somehow, somewhere read between the lines? Were there deviations in his officers’ behaviour? Towards him? In general? The more his thoughts rotate, the less he comes to conclusion, let alone a satisfactory one. There was nothing amiss, not with his crew, not with the daily routines. Nothing wrong with his authorisation codes, either. No fingers pointed when a team of specialists was tasked to look into the weapon’s failure, not one snide remark, neither open nor whispered, no-one turning to hide a grin. Ren was his usual charming self but too busy with his own mess to add to Hux’ embarrassment. When the fatal situation of the planet’s imminent implosion was identified, the crew reacted like the well-oiled machine it was. So no, nothing wrong.

Snoke must have had a spur-of-the-moment inspiration.

He looks at Ren who still lies motionless, still looking very young and peaceful but thankfully not as ghostly pale anymore. His chest rises and falls with the deep, regular breaths he takes. Good. Maybe that Force of his adds to the healing process.

He lets his gaze travel around the small cabin but there is not much to see. It’s clearly not been designed for either comfort or a lengthy stay. From what little he’s seen of the ship, it’s not been designed for comfort either but who cares. It was there in time to take him and Ren off that doomed planet, and that makes it a good ship in Hux’ books.

His coat lies where he’s dropped it and he gets up with a barely suppressed groan. Looks like he’s going to spend the night before Ren’s cot, so might as well lie down on something that’s warmer than the naked floor. And there’s the mysterious trunk, too. He has no idea what’s in it and tired as he is, he squats down to take a closer look and frowns when he recognises it for one of his own. The sheer audacity makes him clench his fists and punch the damn thing. _How dare they. How fucking dare they._

The locks are set to his personal code, meaning his droid has helped them. Not that he blames the droid. It’s a machine and when presented with the correct credentials and access codes will not question the command of another officer.

He opens the trunk and blinks when he takes in the contents. _Brought an overnight bag_ indeed, for this is just what that is. A weekend bag for two, to be more precise. Four sets of fresh underthings, socks, two toiletry bags… and Ren’s bloody helmet! He takes the thing out and stares at it while his mind goes completely blank with rage and frustration. What kind of sick joke is that?

“I swear to you I’m gonna skin you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, to no-one in particular. He tosses the helmet back, slams the trunk shut and returns to the cot before which he spreads out his coat. It’s been a while since he’s last slept on the floor, probably hasn’t done it for as long as he hasn’t tended to injured soldiers, but eventually he finds a position that’s agreeable enough, lying on his side with his right arm bent under his head in lieu of a pillow, but sleep won’t come right away. Too wild is the whirring of his thoughts, too hot his rage that won’t die down.

Eventually he drifts off but it’s an uneasy sleep with even uneasier dreams that make him toss and turn, wake up for a few moments, then drift off again into the next unpleasant dreamscape until something breathes across his mind and calms him, shoos away the dreams, and with the comforting feeling of someone having his back he’s finally granted some much needed rest.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_He’s caught in the middle of one endless, vast ocean of nothing, blind, deaf, falling... falling... Though, how can you be caught in the middle of nothing? How can nothing hold on to you? How can it blind you when there is no light? How can it deafen you when there is no sound? How can you fall when there is nothing to fall off? To fall into? He screams. No sound comes from his throat and he covers his ears because the silence is so loud, so loud, so loud…_

_Then, suddenly, it all stops. Instead of nothing, there’s darkness. Instead of silence, there’s a voice. He’s never heard it in here but he latches on to it, clings to it as if it’s an anchor that stops him from becoming nothing._

_“Had we met under different circumstances, we might have become friends,” the bodiless voice tells him. It’s soft and oddly comforting, but it’s the words it does not speak that warm him from inside out._ Maybe even more.

_And with that, he lets go. He won’t fall. The voice won’t let him._

******

Kylo Ren struggles from unconsciousness into a deep sleep and from there finds himself climbing up into wakefulness. It’s a long and tedious climb and when he finally blinks his eyes open, he feels disoriented, finds it hard to focus. The face that materialises before his eyes is not one he’s expected to see.

“Hux?” he croaks. “That you?”

“It is indeed, and welcome back, Ren.”

He would not have thought that he would ever welcome the sight of Hux’ haughty features but he does.  

“How long –,” he starts, then his voice breaks off. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels like something he would expect to find in an ancient library.

“You need to drink,” Hux says and disappears out of sight. Kylo closes his eyes and runs an internal system check. He’s been stripped down to the waist and his boots have been removed. His whole body aches and various bits and pieces have been patched up but all seems more or less in working order, except for a dull ache in his left flank and a stiffness in his right hand. He frowns and when he finds it hurts to frown, he touches his face with his left and finds that parts of his face have been patched up, too. But the worst thing by far is the emptiness inside. He feels… hollow. Raw. As if something has been ripped out. As if –

He gasps. Struggles to sit up and grunts with pain.

“What are you doing? You can’t sit up just yet!”

Hux has returned with a glass and what appears to be a bottle of water. He puts both on the small table opposite the bed.

“Lie down.”

“I can’t. I must go –,” Kylo starts but is cut off in mid-sentence.

“You’re not going anywhere before you’ve been inside a bacta tank. Lie down at once.”

The General’s tone leaves no room for discussion and truth be told, there’s comfort to be found in being snapped at by Hux. The sheer familiarity of it stops his head from spinning.

“I can’t drink when I’m flat on my back,” he says stubbornly but it’s more an automatic response to being ordered around than an actual attempt to resist. He’s too weak for that.

“I’ll help you.”

Hux pours a glass of water and sits down on the narrow bed, facing the same direction as Kylo.

“Here,” he says, holds the glass to Kylo’s lips and motions as if to put an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“I can do that myself,” Kylo protests but when he tries to close his hand around the glass, he finds he can’t and half the water lands on his chest. _Great_. He glances up into Hux’ face to check for even the smallest sign of contempt at his weakness but there is none.

“I said I’d help you,” Hux says calmly. “You were injured and you’ve been unconscious for at least eight standard hours.” He places a stabilising hand between Kylo’s shoulder blades and brings the glass to his lips again.

This time, Kylo doesn’t protest and takes a greedy gulp that makes him cough and clutch his side that’s begun to throb in dull protest.

“Careful,” Hux warns him. “You’ll want to drink in small sips at first.” He refills the glass. “Again. Slowly.”

Kylo glares at him but does as he’s told and this time, the water brings the refreshment he so desperately needs. When the glass is empty, Hux nods, as if satisfied, and puts it on the table without letting go of Kylo.

“Well done,” he says and again, there’s no hint of mockery. He twists his upper body, removes one hand from between Kylo’s shoulder blades and replaces it with the other, plumps up the pillow and helps Kylo lie down again.

“What happened?” Kylo asks and watches as Hux pulls up a folding chair and sits down on it.

“Well,” Hux says and crosses his legs. “Where to start? You want the short or the full version?”

“Short, for now. Please.”

The last word is out before he can stop himself and one of Hux’ eyebrows jerks up.

“Very well. The, uh, system failure of Starkiller has set a weakening progress in motion that forced us to redirect power from the shields into the core to prevent it from –”

“The short version, Hux.”

“The systems were down, a horde of Resistance pilot swarmed in to attack the base and that, along with a number of small explosions in the oscillator chamber caused the implosion of Starkiller base.”

“And?”

“Orders were given to evacuate the base and I was sent to fetch you.”

“ _You_ were sent to fetch me?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“Why?”

“I was to personally deliver you to Snoke.”

“You _were_ to deliver me – so that’s not where we’re going now?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say that the shuttles with which we were supposed to leave for the _Finalizer_ somehow forgot to take us on board.”

Kylo closes his eyes. It’s all beginning to make horrible sense now.

“And then?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“We were picked up. By whom, I cannot tell. I think the captain of this ship is called Solo and – oh.”

It’s evident from the sound with which he utters the last syllable, Hux has failed to make the connection until now. Kylo finds this remarkable because Hux’ brain usually works really fast, especially under pressure. Does this lapse means he’s more shaken by all of this than he lets on? Interesting. So the General is human after all.

“Of course. Then this is –”

“– the _Millennium Falcon_.” Kylo opens his eyes and meets the General’s stunned gaze. “That’s right. I thought I felt a familiar presence but it’s all such a blur still…”

Hux makes a noise that sounds like a snort. “Splendid. This is just splendid. From the frying pan into the fire, eh.” He narrows his eyes. “Where do you think he’s taking us? D’Qar?”

Kylo shrugs and winces. _No sudden moves, idiot_. “You can never tell with him.” He lifts his right arm and inspects his hand. It won’t open and close properly. It’s as if his fingers are frozen.

“What’s with your hand?” Hux asks.

“Don’t know. It feels numb.”

“Let me see.” Hux holds out his hand and Kylo pulls his back immediately.

“It’s probably nothing,” he mutters. He’s made a pitiful enough display of himself already. No need to add to it.

“Give it.” Hux makes an impatient gesture and Kylo, after a brief internal struggle, does as he’s told. Again. This better not become a habit.

Hux takes his hand and inspects it.

“No external wounds,” he states. “It’s probably to do with the cut on your shoulder.”

He checks each finger for mobility, turns the hand palm-up and starts sliding his knuckles over Kylo’s hand in smooth strokes, starting from his fingertips over palm and wrist all the way up to the elbow and back down. He repeats this a few times, then slides his own hands underneath Kylo’s and places his thumbs on the wrist, pushes down gently and starts moving his thumbs in outward circular motions, moves from wrist to the balls of Kylo’s hands and repeats the motion, applying a little more pressure to the thumb’s muscular base. It feels… nice.

“How come you know how to do this?” Kylo asks, curious. “Are you a healer in your spare time?” He folds his left arm underneath his head so he lies a little less flat and patient-like on his back.

Hux shoots him an amused glance. “Certainly not,” he says without interrupting what he’s doing. “Let’s just say I know a thing or two outside the officers’ manual.”

“Don’t tell me your duties leave you time to pursue interests other than being a good little soldier boy.”

Hux doesn’t reply but the corners of his mouth twitch and despite all, Kylo has to stifle a grin. The whole situation is just too absurd. Here he is, all cozied up and chatting amicably with his long-time rival who’s giving him a hand massage. A good one, too. The cramped muscles of his hand are beginning to relax and the numbness in his right forearm is being replaced by a faint, pleasant humming sensation. He’d find it all even funnier if it weren’t for the dull throbbing in his left flank and the fact that they’re on the _Falcon_ of all ships, not to mention the emptiness inside of him. It’s as unexpected as it is terrifying and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He feels the first stirring of a panic but with what little mental strength he still possesses, he puts a firm lid on it. He is too weak to deal with it now, he cannot and will not face the meaning of this, let alone the possible consequences, and so he closes his eyes and concentrates on the warmth that is somehow creeping from Hux’ hands into his arm. Which is strange, really, because Hux is not the person he would ever have associated with any kind of warmth.

The door opens with a faint creak and somebody clears his throat.

“Uhm, excuse me,” says a familiar voice. “Am I interrupting something?”

The soothing rubbing along his arm comes to a halt. Kylo almost grunts with annoyance.

“No, you’re not,” Hux replies. “Come.”

“How’s he doing?”

“You can ask him yourself. He’s awake.”

“He is?”

Kylo opens his eyes. “I am,” he confirms.

“Hello.” The face of Han Solo comes into view. “How are you feeling, son?”

“I’ve been better. But I’m breathing.”

“That’s, uh, good to hear.” His father’s eyes dart from him to Hux and back again. “Can I, uhm, would you mind if I –,” he makes a vague gesture and Kylo grits his teeth. For all that his father is such a smooth talker when it comes to worming his way out of whatever he’s got himself into, he can be surprisingly tongue-tied and awkward when there is not the least need.

“I think what Han Solo is trying to tell us,” he says, looking at Hux, “is that he’d like a moment with me alone.”

“Yes,” Solo says. His relief is almost tangible. “That.”

“Of course,” Hux replies and gets up. “Is there a place where I can clean myself up?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Chewie will show you.”

“Is that the Wookiee?”

“Yes. Tell him I told you to ask him.”

“Will do. Thank you.” Hux gives a brisk nod, fishes something out of the trunk that sits on the floor – he must ask him about that later – and leaves them, closing the door behind him.

“Well?” Kylo asks.

His father leans against the doorframe.

“Are you really all right?”

“I told you so, didn’t I?”

“You did. I guess I needed to hear it again.” He gives a crooked smile. “You looked to be in a pretty bad shape when I picked you up.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

Another half-smile. “Let’s call it a hunch.”

Their eyes meet.

“I guess I should thank you for that,” Kylo says, a little reluctantly, but Solo makes a dismissive gesture.

“I happened to be in the area. Glad you’re up and awake.”

“I wouldn’t call this ‘up’.”

“But you’re alive and talking.”

“Do I have to thank you for that, too?”

“For what?

“For getting me up and awake.”

“Oh, that. No. You’ll have to thank your, uh, friend for that.”

“What, Hux?”

“Yeah. He patched you up and wouldn’t leave your side. Slept on the floor next to your bed, too.”

“What?”

“Are you two… very good friends?”

“No,” Kylo slowly says. “He’s the commander of Starkiller base and the _Finalizer_. Well, he used to be. Why are you asking?”

His father shoots him a curious glance. “Because when we found you, he was holding you in his arms. And you were, well, sort of holding hands when I came in.”

“We weren’t holding hands,” Kylo protests. He feels foolish, lying flat on his back and arguing with his father. “He was massaging my hand and arm because my hand was all cramped up. Don’t make it sound as if you caught him compromising my honour.”

“Hmph,” Solo doesn’t look convinced. “And is it customary for First Order officers to deliver hand massages and cradle their staff members in their arms?”

“No, it’s not. But he’s got a very strong sense of duty, Hux. Leaving me behind while I was out cold would probably have violated his code of honour. He doesn’t run away from his duties, you see,” he adds, a little waspishly. Solo crosses his arms across his chest and has the grace to look a little embarrassed but then he shrugs it off. _He always does_ , Kylo thinks. _Just like he always runs away._

“Anyway, it’s good that the two of you have bonded because it looks like you’ll be stuck with each other for a while.”

“We haven’t – whatever. Why do you say that? Where are you taking us?” Kylo narrows his eyes. “You’re not taking us to _her_?”

“If you’re talking about your mother, no, I’m not taking you to her. She has a strong sense of duty, too,” he puts extra emphasis on the last words, “and I’m not adding you to her pile of work. Not if I can help it. I’m taking you first where they have a field bacta tank because your officer friend tells me he can’t fix that nasty wound on your side.”

“Well, I guess we both know who’s to thank for that.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry about that. Anyway. Bacta tank first, then away.”

“Define ‘away’.”

“I’ve made arrangements for you to be delivered to a place that should be safe enough for the time being. I mean, I’m taking you there myself but I had to contact an old friend first, to see if it’s still an option.”

“An old friend.”

“Yes.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

A scratch at the door relieves Solo of the need to answer. He opens, and Chewbacca pokes his furry head in. He utters a string of his usual yodel-howls and Solo nods.

“That’s good. Thanks, Chewie.”

Chewbacca jerks his chin towards Kylo and yowls some more.

“Whatever, Wookiee. I’m still alive,” Kylo says.

With one last growl in Kylo’s direction, Chewbacca disappears and Solo turns to leave, too. “We’re almost there,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll make arrangements for you to be taken to their med station and then we’ll take it from there.”

“Sure,” Kylo closes his eyes again. What else is there to say. “Thanks.”

 

After that, he drifts off into a numbing kind of sleep that has bears no resemblance to any kind of restorative slumber but at least it’s free of nightmares. He oversleeps both their landing and his transport to the med station, wakes up only when somebody gently touches his shoulder. The face of a med droid peers down at him and when he appears conscious enough, the droid starts preparing him for the bacta tank.

He’s never been inside a tank before and it’s a less than pleasant experience. It’s like being swallowed alive by a slimy, gelatinous mass and the clumsy breathing apparatus doesn’t make it any better. Maybe he should have agreed to the offered sedative but it’s too late now. He forces himself to take deep, regular breaths to stop himself from panicking and fixes his eyes on the corner opposite the tank where Hux is standing like a shadow, arms crossed, waiting. It’s like he’s standing guard over him and Kylo takes strange comfort from his presence.

Then, finally, it’s all over and an overwhelming feeling of relief swamps over him when he’s lifted out of the tank and cleaned of the gooey mass that’s sticking everywhere. The med droid checks his vital signs and injuries in a separate examination room and asks him to perform a number of tests to examine his mobility and reactivity. When all is to the droid’s satisfaction, it rolls out of the room without another word and Kylo gratefully reaches for the clothes that lie neatly folded on the sideboard. It’s a pair of standard issue underthings, exactly his size, his trousers (repaired and cleaned in a rough-and-ready way), boots and a shirt that is definitely not his. The sleeves are too short and it’s a little tight around the shoulders but it’ll do for now. At least it’s clean.

Hux is waiting for him outside the small room. When Kylo steps out, he frowns and clicks his tongue.

“What is it?” Kylo asks.

“I’m not sure that was a proper bacta tank,” he says disapprovingly.

“Why, what’s the matter? The droid seemed happy enough with the results. Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Your face,” Hux touches his own face as if to demonstrate. “There shouldn’t be a scar.”

“What scar?” There’s no mirror and so he touches his fingers to the spot that Hux has indicated, feels an irregularity but as it neither hurts nor itches, he dismisses it for now. “Any idea where we are?”

Hux shrugs his shoulders. “It’s more or less a stopover. Your father –”

“Don’t call him that,” Kylo snaps and Hux gives him a glance that is hard to read. He’s always been hard to read, Hux.

“Very well. Solo says as soon as you’re on your feet again, he’ll take us where we won’t be found in a while.”

“That could be anywhere.”

“That much is obvious. Your – Solo seems a much-travelled man.”

“Tell me about it,” Kylo mutters.

When they leave the med station, they are met by the renegade Stormtrooper whom Kylo has fought in the snow. Kylo eyes him over with mild interest.

“Seems I didn’t finish you after all,” he says. “Here to babysit us?”

The trooper – what was his serial number again? – glares at him.

“I’m to take you back to the _Falcon_ ,” he stiffly replies.

“And then?”

“General Solo will take you to your destination.”

“And that’s where?” He adds some Force persuasion to his question but the trooper – FN-something, he thinks – shakes his head.

“I couldn’t tell you.”

He really couldn’t. He has no idea what Solo plans to do with them. Kylo wonders if Solo himself knows or whether this rescue mission was one of his spur-of-the-moment ideas. One never knows with his father. He’s surprisingly resourceful and surprisingly thick in equal measure. Kylo hopes he’s having one of his more creative moments.

Out of sheer curiosity he asks, “What about the girl? Do you know where she is?”

FN-something presses his lips together, shakes his head. A quick mindprobe reveals something about an island but then Hux touches his arm.

“Leave him, Ren,” he says. “Let’s go to the _Falcon_. Let’s not waste any more time on this – wherever and whatever this is.”

“Very well.” Kylo lets go of the trooper’s mind. There’s nothing in there worth investigating, Hux is right about that. Besides, he feels the desperate urge to meditate, to sort through his own mind that is still shrilling alarm, still hovering on the edge of panic. The sooner he faces it, the better.

They follow FN-something through a maze of corridors and chaos. Kylo could have done without him because as much as it irritates him, his father’s signal is like a beacon calling him in. Actually, it’s beyond irritating and he feels rage well up inside of him. _Han Solo of all people._ He steals a glance to his right where Hux is walking. The General’s face is a stony mask but he, too, is annoyed. No mindprobe needed to sense his anger. It comes off in almost tangible waves and in absence of a more worthy target is directed at FN who leads the way, his back ramrod straight and his eyes trained ahead.

And odd as it seems, Hux’ annoyance soothes Kylo’s own. Whatever has happened to them and whatever is still to come, they’re in this together. Somehow the Force has seen it fit to weave their paths into one for the time being. Maybe this is a test. Maybe this is a possibility. In any case, it’s something he needs to address in his meditation and so he doesn’t speak another word before they board the _Falcon_.

“Hey kid,” Han Solo greets FN-something, then nods to Kylo and Hux. “Good to see you on your feet again, Ben. I’ll show you to your quarters,” he makes it sound as if they’re on board a pleasure cruise ship, “and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to stay there. Well,” he adds, “of course you may use the, uh, facilities but other than that, no roaming about. Clear?”

“Absolutely,” Hux says in the flat voice he uses when he’s so angry he’s about to explode. Kylo is very familiar with that tone. He has been on the receiving end of it many times. “Am I correct to assume you’ve taken us prisoner?”

“No, son, I haven’t. It’s for your own safety.”

 _Son_? That won’t sit well with Hux and – yes, there it is. The angry twitch of his nose, as if he’s stepped into Bantha shit. Mirroring Hux’ earlier move, Kylo places a hand on his arm before Hux has a chance to go into full General mode.

“Let go,” he says. “Don’t waste your energy arguing.” He looks at his father. “The same quarters as before?”

Solo nods and before he can say another word, Kylo turns around and heads for the small cabin. Hux follows him inside but when Kylo opens his mouth to protest, Hux holds up his hand.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We’re not going to bunk together. I just want this.”

He points to where the small trunk with the _Finalizer_ Emblem is still sitting.

“Oh,” Kylo says. “Of course. How did that get here, anyway? You hadn’t planned a holiday on Starkiller, had you?”

“Certainly not. Whoever came up with the whole plan thought it funny to pack a few things for us.” He opens the trunk. “Here,” he says and hands Kylo a set of underthings, socks and… his helmet. “I believe these are yours. They’re clearly not my size. It’s two sets for each of us and I took the liberty of taking one of yours to the med station.”

Kylo throws the clothes carelessly on the small chair, turns the helmet around in his hands and looks at it. It’s so out of place here and now but there must be a reason it’s come with him.

“Out,” he says. “I must be alone now.”

“Sure.” Hux doesn’t even blink at Kylo’s rudeness. They’re used to each other’s ways. “I’m in the cabin across.”

“Yes.”

He all but slams the door into Hux’ back, then sits down heavily on the narrow cot, boots and all, and crosses his legs, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and draws on the Force to lead him into a meditative trance, into the emptiness that’s inside him, the gaping, bleeding hole where his master’s presence used to be all these years, guiding him, teaching him, pushing him. _Snoke_. Kylo has feared him and worshipped him for so long, has basked in his power and has envied him for it, feeling worthless and powerful at the same time, pushing himself well beyond his limit and letting himself be pushed even further…

He deepens his meditative state and floats through the void of his own mind. His grip on the Force is loosening the deeper he falls and now, finally, panic takes over. He relishes it, feeds it to the rage that is building up inside him, lifting its ugly head and opening its greedy jaws wide, welcoming every bit of panic and confusion that Kylo feeds it. With Snoke gone, there’s no-one to teach him now, no-one to centre him, no-one to challenge him. No-one. He’s alone, all alone, more alone than he’s ever been, and he’s floating, spinning out of control, spinning and tumbling and turning and the Force is laughing at him, dancing out of his reach, tantalising him…

_We might have become friends. Maybe even more._

His tumble comes to a halt. The voice. It’s centred him before. Where is it? Where does it originate? He reaches out, tries to feel for it in the darkness that surrounds him. There’s something there, and it’s right before him. He minimises his presence in the Force as best he can, hoping it’s not too late, and then he sees it, a soft ripple in the fabric. It’s no presence of its own, rather it’s the idea of another presence, a mere murmur, and it’s inviting him to touch and find out. It’s not hostile. It’s not power. It’s not even reaching out for him. It’s just there. Waiting. Offering.

_I’m glad you’re the one who’s here with me now, mate._

The words sound like an echo, something he’s heard and has not heard. Just like that other line, the one that keeps floating through him. But that voice… that voice… He knows it well and yet, he cannot place it. He’s heard it before, has heard it many times and yet, it sounds so different. There’s a soft lilt to it that is utterly unfamiliar and yet… if you take away the lilt and add some acidity it reminds him of –

Kylo’s eyes fly open.

Impossible.

 


	4. Chapter 4

On the second day on the _Millenium Falcon_ , Hux is bored beyond anything. He’s spent some time removing the First Order insignia from his uniform and greatcoat, has done push-ups and sit-ups, has tossed and turned on his narrow cot, trying to understand what has happened. He still has no clue and so he has stopped tossing and turning. Now he is lying flat on his back, hands folded across his stomach, and practises his breathing exercises. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale-two-three, exhale-two-three.

It’s not working.

He scratches his chin. He needs a shave. And a shower. And fresh socks. And above all, he needs something to do.

He sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to do some exploring, no matter what Solo has said. After all, they’re not prisoners, right?

When he opens the door, he finds the corridor empty and so he ventures outside. Before Ren’s door he stops and listens. Not a sound. He is probably meditating. Or levitating things. Or himself. Or whatever a Force-user does to pass the time. Hux will have to do his exploring by himself. Ren is probably familiar with the _Falcon_ ; after all, she’s his father’s ship and from the look of it, she must be something of a family heirloom.

The _Falcon_ is old and battered all around but she is in surprisingly good shape. Well maintained, that is. There’s been a lot of repairwork, some of which looks improvised and makeshift but efficient nevertheless.

“Somebody loves you, old girl,” he murmurs, patting an arrangement of pins, bolts and two levers that would have given the _Finalizer’s_ mechanics a nosebleed.

Not too far away something _klonks_ , and he freezes.

Then, a frustrated howl.

Hux peers around a corner. A trap door is open. That’s where the howl must have come from. He inches closer.

Solo’s Wookiee is staring at something in front of him, scratching his furry head. He’s wearing goggles and is holding what looks like a soldering gun in the hand with which he scratches his head and a small vice in the other. Hux hopes the gun won’t power up. A burning Wookiee is not something he wants to be around.

“Do you need help with that?” It’s out before he can help himself and when the Wookiee’s head snaps up, he’s sure he’s just made a big mistake.

Chewbacca pushes the goggles up and narrows his eyes. He barks something and Hux holds his hands up in an apologetic gesture.

“I know I’m supposed to stay in my quarters but I’m bored out of my mind. I’m not used to not having anything to do.” He takes a careful step towards the trap door. “Maybe I can help you with whatever you’re doing?”

The Wookiee cocks his head, as if considering the offer, then gives one of his yodel-howls.

“But if I’m with you, then I’m not unattended,” Hux points out. “And if I’m down there with you, then I’m not roaming the ship, yes? I’m not a trained engineer but I’m good at fixing things.”

A yowl from Chewbacca.

_"Do you understand what I’m saying?"_

“Yes, I understand you. I—” he stops, confused. He does. He understands the Wookiee. Well, he doesn’t catch every single yowl but he understands him enough to grasp the meaning of what is being said. “I, uh,” he scratches his head. “I don’t know—” then it hits him. “Ayygawi,” he says, relieved. Of course. “My maternal grandfather had a Wookiee assistant. Assistant,” he repeats when Chewbacca growls. “She was not a slave. She was a healer, just like him. Ayygawi, yes, that was her name. She had blue eyes and her, uh, fur was darker than yours.”

_"Where is she now?"_

“I don’t know what’s become of her. I wish I knew, really, I do. She was kind to me. I wasn’t born a general, you see, I—” he breaks off. That doesn’t belong here. “Anyway, she taught me some Wookieespeech, no, wait, Shyriiwook, yes?”

Chewbacca nods.

“I can’t speak it but I used to understand it well when I was a boy. Seems I haven’t forgotten after all.”

The Wookiee studies him for a moment and when he has reached a conclusion, he nods and motions for Hux to join him in the pit. After some rummaging around, he hands Hux a second set of goggles and points him to where he needs him.

It turns out Wookieespeech isn’t the only thing Hux hasn’t forgotten and the _Falcon’s_ blown fuses are quickly repaired, as is the portside heating unit. Hux’ thoughts have stopped going in circles at some point and when he puts his uniform jacket back on, he feels a bit more like himself again. He has done something useful, has accomplished something. After that horrible failure and the unspeakable betrayal that followed it, successfully repairing an old ship’s heating unit seems like quite an achievement.

Next to him, Chewbacca gives a series of low _woofs_ that sound suspiciously like a chuckle.

“What?” Hux asks.

Chewbacca throws his head back and yodel-howls.

“Yes, we were a good team down there, I agree.” He sighs. “Guess I better go back to my quarters, eh. Don’t want to get you into trouble.”

When he turns to go, Chewbacca grabs him by the arm and jerks his head back, yowling some more.

“What, a game of Dejarik? I haven’t played in ages. I don’t think I remember the rules.”

Which is a lie. He’s downloaded a set of classic Dejarik to the console in his private quarters on Starkiller and whenever sleep won’t come to him, he gets up and plays a few games against the computer. He usually wins, too. Dejarik is an old-fashioned strategy game and Hux excels at strategy games. Playing against a Wookiee may therefore not be a good idea. Wookiees are sorry losers and Hux is not interested in having any of his limbs broken.

Chewbacca gives him the look of a very young and very hurt Wookiee pup and Hux sighs again.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

An eager nod, some more of that woofing.

“All right then.” Chewbacca must know by now who he is and is unlikely to believe that a First Order General is too stupid to grasp the rules of Dejarik. He will have to come up with a strategy because being too obvious at letting the Wookiee win may be just as unwise as letting him lose. Who knows, this may be entertaining. Certainly a lot more entertaining than lying around on his cot.

He follows Chewbacca into what looks like a small leisure area where FN-2187 has occupied one of the armchairs, studying a datapad. He looks up and when he sees Hux, jumps up from his chair.

“You’re not supposed to leave your quarters,” he snaps.

“At ease, soldier,” Hux replies. “As you see, I am not alone. Chewbacca here makes sure I won’t sneak around. Isn’t that right, Chewbacca?”

Chewbacca nods and makes some affirmative noises.

“Thought so. Now, where’s the gaming table?”

Chewbacca points to a small seating arrangement that’s built around a roundish table.

“Brilliant. Why don’t you power it up so we can get started? And remember, go easy on me. It’s been a while.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see FN-2187 stiffen.

“Do you understand that—uh, him?”

“I do,” Hux says, a little smugly. “Don’t you?”

“I—no.”

“You may want to try picking up some of the basics if you intend to travel with Solo and Chewbacca. Might come in handy, you know.”

With that, he turns his attention towards the Dejarik board where the game pieces have appeared, all set in their starting positions. Chewbacca makes a grand gesture, inviting Hux to make the first move.

Behind him, FN-2187 mumbles something and he hears him leave the lounge which is fine by him as he has no intention to engage in any exchange with the former Stormtrooper. There’s a game to be played.

It turns out Chewbacca is an excellent Dejarik player and after a while Hux begins to relax, actually enjoying himself. It’s been a very long while since he’s had no obligation other than pass the time and for a moment, Starkiller, Snoke, the betrayal and even Ren fade into the background. He does let Chewbacca win most of the games but when he realises Chewbacca is relaxing, too, he does the unthinkable and uses the kintan strider death gambit against Chewbacca’s favoured holo monster. The Wookiee visibly starts, narrows his eyes and makes a risky move but it’s too late. Hux plays the fork and wipes Chewbacca’s most aggressive pieces off the board. Then he holds his breath and braces himself.

Chewbacca stares at the board, stares at Hux and slams a hairy fist on the table. For a few heartbeats there’s no sound except for the Wookiee’s laboured breathing, and then… Chewbacca throws his head back and bark-roars.

_"Well done, little brother!"_

Hux blinks. What was that? Little brother?

“Are you not going to break my arm or something?”

_"Why? You played well."_

A wide grin splits Hux’ face, wider than he’s grinned in ages. There’s not been an awful lot to grin about as a general of the First Order, but having beaten a Wookiee at Dejarik and getting to enjoy his victory unharmed, well, that certainly is something to be cheerful about.

“What is going on here?”

It’s Solo’s voice. Hux hasn’t heard him come in and neither has Chewbacca. They exchange a look and it feels so much like being caught red-handed that he starts laughing. Chewbacca joins him, barking his amusement.

“What have you two been smoking?” He glares at Hux. “Haven’t I told you to stay at your quarters?”

“You sure did, but I—” he’s cut off by Chewbacca.

_"Little brother has been helping me with a few very necessary repairs, brother. He’s been most helpful. You shouldn’t be angry at him."_

“What the—” Solo gives Chewbacca an incredulous look. Then he shrugs. “You know what? I don’t care. Finn’s told me a thing or two about you and I can’t say I enjoyed hearing what he said. I’ve never been a friend of the Empire and certainly not of the Order. Under different circumstances I would not grant a First Order General free passage on my ship. But you saved my son and took care of him when I couldn’t. And it seems Chewie here likes you. That’s good enough for me.” He flops down into one of the armchairs. “Mind telling me what’s happened?”

Hux presses his lips together. How much should he tell Solo? How much does the man already know? Then again… he’ been left behind to die by the very people he’s pledged his life and loyalty to, right?

“You want the short or the long version?” he asks when he’s made up his mind.

Solo crosses his ankles. “Feel free to share what you’re comfortable sharing,” he says lightly. “I don’t expect you to give me any First Order strategies. Although,” he plucks at the seam of his jacket, “strictly speaking, you’re no longer under any obligation, right?”

“You assume correctly,” Hux says. “I’m presumed dead. So here’s what’s happened.” And he gives Solo an abridged version of what happened up to the moment he’s picked Hux and Ren up on Starkiller.

Solo nods, as if he already knows.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You knew?”

“Not precisely, and not in such detail. But I’ve picked up bits here and there,” he spreads his hands in a vague gesture, “and when Ben let me go back there on that bridge, I figured that would get him in disgrace. But you? From what Finn tells me, you’re more or less the First Order’s golden boy.”

“Who’s Finn?”

“Him,” Solo makes a vague gesture into the direction into which FN-2187 has vanished earlier. “The black kid. Finn.”

“Oh. Finn.” Hux chews on this. So the ex-trooper has a name, huh. He vaguely remembers FN-, no, Finn telling him so when he stumbled aboard the _Falcon_ after being picked up from Starkiller, but he wasn’t exactly his brightest that night. FN, Finn, whatever. He looks at Solo and shrugs. “I don’t know. Well, I have an idea but I will admit I wasn’t quite prepared for what would eventually happen.”

Solo shrugs and lets it go. “Well, like I said, you saved my boy and that’s what counts. I’m taking you two somewhere where you should be relatively safe. It’s not quite unchartered territory, don’t worry, I’m not dropping you off on some Outer Rim moon. I’m taking you to a place where you can hide in plain sight, if you’re doing it right.”

“Where would that be?”

“I can’t tell you just now. I’m still waiting for confirmation from an old buddy of mine—”

He’s interrupted by FN-, no, Finn’s voice.

“Incoming holo call, sir.”

Solo grins. “That would be him,” he says and gets up. “You’re welcome to stay here, if you want, and so is Ben. Just—stay away from the control centre, yes?”

“Yessir.”

“Chewie, with me. I need you in the co-pilot seat.”

_"Of course."_

When they’re both gone, Hux inspects the _Falcon’s_ lounge. Maybe ‘lounge’ is too grand a word. There’s not an awful lot more than an eclectic collection of seats and armchairs and—he opens a square purple door—a well-stocked bar. No reading materials, no sign of holovid equipment. What does Solo do when he’s stuck on the _Falcon_ for days?

And just what is Ren doing? He’s neither seen nor heard from him since they’ve left the medical station. Surely he can’t have been meditating all that time?

He walks back to the passenger section of the ship and knocks on Ren’s door.

“Ren?”

Nothing. Not a sound.

“Ren, cut the nonsense and open the door. I need to talk to you!”

Silence. Then—a huff and a _thunk_ , as if Ren’s jumped down from somewhere. The door opens.

Ren stands before him, bare-chested and covered in sweat. He’s tied his hair back into an untidy knot and there are dark shadows under his eyes that are suspiciously red. Ren’s either not slept one minute or he’s been… crying?

“What?”

He sounds like his usual charming self. Hux decides that this is a good sign.

“Glad to see you’re up and chipper as ever. Mind if I come in?” With that, he shoulders him aside and walks into the cabin. It’s a mess. Ren’s clothes are everywhere, underthings, tunic, socks, boots, helmet, cape, all lying around in various states of crease and crumple. On the floor, on the chair, on the bed.

“I like what you’ve done to the place,” he dryly says, picks up a shirt and the tunic from the chair, puts them on the cot, sits down and crosses his legs.

Ren is still standing in the door, glowering at him.

“Come on, Ren,” Hux pats the cot. “Join me for a briefing, will you?”

“Briefing?”

“Whatever you want to call it. Join me.” Another pat. “Please?”

Ren closes the door and sits down on the bed, cross-legged. Apart from his red eyes, he looks healthy. Gone is the near-deathly pallor and his wounds have healed nicely. He will keep scars—the bacta fluids clearly were of inferior quality—but the bruises are gone and the angry red of the scars will fade over time.

“Do you have any idea where Solo is taking us?”

Ren shrugs. “He’s taking us to some old friend of his, that’s all I know.”

“Yes, that’s what he’s told me, too.”

“You spoke with him?”

“I did indeed. We had a… chat, I believe he would call it. He asked me about what happened and I gave him a very brief outline. Just enough to satisfy his most pressing curiosity. I don’t believe he needs to be given all the details.”

“Did he seek you out?”

“No. I decided I couldn’t take any more sitting around and did some exploring.”

“But we were told to stay inside our cabins.”

Hux raises his eyebrows. “Since when do you do as you’re told?”

Ren presses his lips together. “I—needed to meditate.”

“I see.”

“And since when does a soldier not obey an order?”

“Solo is not my superior,” Hux mildly points out. “He expressly stated that we weren’t his prisoners and so I decided his request for us to stay in our cabins was more a suggestion than an explicit order. Besides, I’ve made myself useful.”

“You? How?”

“I helped Chewbacca fix a heating unit and a faulty power converter of the back-up hyper drive.”

“You—”

Ren looks at him with such disbelief it’s almost insulting and Hux raises his chin.

“I know a few things that come in handy every once in a while.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, what do you suggest we do next? What are your plans?”

“My plans?”

“Yes, Ren,” Hux says patiently. “What do you plan to do with your life going forward?”

“My… life.” Ren’s voice sounds very small all of a sudden and Hux shifts in his chair to directly look at him.

“What is it, Ren?”

Ren looks down, clenches and unclenches his fists. Hux can almost sense his internal struggle. When Ren looks up again, his eyes are suspiciously bright.

“He’s gone,” Ren says. “He’s… abandoned me. After all this time. He’s left me behind. Just like that.” He blinks, and one single tear runs down his cheek.

“Who’s gone?”

“Snoke.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Fuck the Supreme Leader,” Hux rudely says. “Let me tell you a thing or two about leadership. A true leader doesn’t leave his men behind. A leader doesn’t rush off in a pout when something goes wrong. He stays by his team and leads them out of harm’s way. Then he sits down with his command staff and debriefs. Then, and only then, comes the assessment. There’s nothing supreme about that shrivelled-up excuse of a leader.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Come on, Ren, surely it can’t be that bad. You’re not left with nothing, you know.”

“Are you going to tell me I can still go home to Mommy and Daddy after you’ve given me a speech about how lucky I should feel for still having a family?” Ren snaps. “How I’ve grown up in a loving surrounding with parents madly in love with each other whereas your own childhood was miserable and loveless and how you’ve had to claw your way up as opposed to me?”

Hux blinks. Where did that come from? “I will tell you no such thing,” he carefully replies. “A marriage based on passion does not provide the most stable background to raise a child. People madly in love with each other tend to place the focus on their all-consuming passion, away from what’s around them.” He looks at his hands, smoothes his trouser leg. “And since you’ve brought it up, my childhood was anything but miserable, nor was it loveless. Obedience and discipline, yes, those were the main pillars of my upbringing but that comes with the territory. My father’s marriage was a mutually beneficial arrangement and while my stepmother wasn’t too happy about having her husband’s illegitimate son forced into her care, she never treated me unkindly. Neither did my father, no matter what his public persona may have transported. Even after my biological mother passed away, I was still allowed to visit my maternal grandfather whenever my father was gone. I was originally named after him, you see, and the memories of him are among my fondest.”

He falls silent, confused. Why for kriff’s sake is he sharing such deeply personal things with Kylo Ren of all people?

Their eyes meet and lock.

There’s two shades of brown in Ren’s eyes, Hux notices absent-mindedly. The ring around the iris is of a dark brown whereas the outer ring is more of a greenish-brown with a few dark specks in them. And where does _that_ come from? Since when is he interested in the colour of Ren’s eyes?

“I guess we’re in this together,” Ren finally says.

“Looks like it.”

“What are your plans then, General?”

Hux huffs. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a general any longer.” He points to where his insignia used to be. “I say we find something to eat. I’m starving. And until we know where we’re going, we could play Dejarik.”

“Dejarik?”

“There’s a Dejarik board in the, uh, lounge. It’s an outdated version but fully functional.”

“So it’s still there, huh.”

“It is.”

“Have you tried it?”

“I played against Chewbacca.”

“What?”

“I won.”

“Chewie let you win?” Ren asks, incredulous.

“He didn’t let me win. I beat him.”

“What did you do to him?”

“What do you think I could possibly do to him? I’m not exactly a match for him, physically.”

“No,” Ren slowly says, “you’re not. Neither am I. What have I missed? Chewbacca has never let me win before.”

“I think he enjoyed working with someone who understands him.”

“You understand Wookiee-speech?”

“A little.” Hux gets up. “Let’s go, Ren. I’m still starving. I can tell you all about my grandfather’s Wookiee assistant if you’re interested but I really must eat now.”

Ren nods, fishes for his socks and boots, puts both on and gets up. Hux hands him his shirt and tunic and Ren puts them on, too. Hux turns to the right, to return to the lounge, but Ren shakes his head and points to the left.

“You’re hungry, right? The caboose is this way.”

It turns out Ren is very familiar with the _Falcon’s_ layout, just as Hux has suspected, and when they’ve plundered enough food to satisfy their rumbling stomachs, they make for the lounge where they eat and play Dejarik. Ren is a horrible player. Strategy clearly isn’t his strength and when Hux beats him for the fifth time, he deactivates the board with a growl not unlike a Wookiee’s. Hux has to suppress a grin.

Neither of them speaks a lot. The brief moment of intimacy they shared in Ren’s cabin has passed. An awkward silence settles between them and after a few unsuccessful attempts at small talk they decide to head back to their quarters to try and catch some sleep.

 

******

 

The next morning, Hux wakes up to a hammering on the door. He blinks his way into consciousness. Usually, he’s fully awake the moment he opens his eyes but he’s been caught in another strange dream and it takes a while before his surroundings fully register.

He opens the door. It’s Solo.

“Yes?”

“We’re nearly there. Care to come and take a look?”

With that, he snaps into full wake mode. “Of course. Give me three.”

Solo nods and hammers against Ren’s door. Hux grabs his boots and rushes to the facilities. On his way back, he all but bumps into Ren who looks dishevelled but refreshed. He takes longer than Hux in the bathroom but looks like a human being when he finally re-emerges.

“So, where are you taking us—Dad?” he asks. Solo’s face breaks into a wide grin upon being called ‘dad’ and nudges him.

“Just you wait and see, kid. Come with me.”

They follow him and Hux gives Ren a searching look. Ren shrugs and gives him a lop-sided grin.

“There’s really no point rebelling against the facts any longer,” he says. “I must meditate on all of this some more but for now, I must face the truth.”

Hux nods. It’s the most grown-up thing Ren’s said so far and he’s glad to hear it. There’ll be plenty of time for debriefing and reflection once they’ve settled down wherever Solo has taken them. For now, they must concentrate on what lies before them.

When they arrive at the _Falcon’s_ command centre, they are greeted by the sight of a planet that appears orange in colour and is surrounded by several moons.

“Bespin,” Solo says. “Welcome to Cloud City, boys.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Bespin?” Kylo echoes and behind him, at the same time, Hux asks, “The gas mining colony?”

“That’s the one.” His father beams at them.

“But—wasn’t Cloud City an Imperial stronghold?”

“It was for a while,” Hux says. “It was freed after the Battle of Endor after one of the Imperial Security defected but around fourteen ABY Imperial forces the City was once more occupied. That didn’t last very long either, and the garrison and the sympathizers of the Empire were completely destroyed.”

“You’re quite the walking database, General,” Kylo says. He isn’t sure why it annoys him so. Hux has always been an endless supply of facts and figures. Over the years Kylo has learnt it’s to do with the way his brain works. Hux never forgets anything.

“You got it, son.” Solo gives Hux an approving look. “And that’s why I’ve taken you here. There’s a constant coming and going of all kinds of people and I’m always amazed there’s not more air traffic accidents.”

“When was the last time you were there?” Kylo asks. “You always say it’s not your favourite place and besides, that buddy of yours has been gone for a while, right?”

His father shrugs. “Oh, I’ve had dealings here and there. But that’s not the point. The point is that you can stay there and be relatively safe.”

“Safe, huh.”

“Well, you know, out of the Order’s focus.”

“Who governs this place?” Hux asks.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Solo grins. “No-one does.”

“I don’t see the beauty in this. It reeks of chaos and anarchy.”

“Ah, but think of the possibilities, kid. Anything can happen when you’re above the clouds.”

Chewbacca growls in the background.

“Yes, coming!” Solo says over his shoulder. “You might want to start packing. Estimated landing in about thirty standard minutes.”

“What about clearance?” Hux asks.

“Oh, I have special clearance.” Solo winks and swings himself back into the pilot’s seat.

Hux frowns and looks as if he wants to say something, then shrugs and leaves. Kylo lingers on for a while longer, stares at the planet as it comes closer into view and tries to recall his memories of the place. He was still a little boy then, four, five years of age and he remembers being much impressed. His father’s friend—Lando Calrissian, yes, that’s the name, he remembers it now—invited them to visit and although his father was extremely reluctant to go, he eventually gave in and what a treat it was for little Ben. So many things to look at, beings from all over the galaxy, and so many unusual foodstuff, too. He remembers stuffing himself with sweet-sand cookies, and he feels the corners of his mouth lift with the memory. Stars, he used to love sweet-sand cookies!

As he was growing up and learning about his grandfather’s role in the rise and fall of the Empire, Kylo wanted to visit the landmark places of Darth Vader’s activities, Cloud City being among them, but Snoke advised against it. Why, he never said but Kylo accepted his decision without protest. Snoke was master and Kylo was student, and the master’s decisions were not challenged. Not ever.

Will there be remnants of Vader’s energy down there? Will he be able to still sense the presence of one of the most powerful minds ever to bend the Force to his will?

Probably not. It’s all been so long ago.

He turns and heads for his cabin. It’s not as if he has an awful lot to pack and with any luck Hux has already taken care of that, but there is just enough time for a brief meditation.

And yes, Kylo’s cabin is empty. Hux has packed up both their meagre belongings, tidy soldier that he is.

He sits down on the narrow cot, crosses his legs and closes his eyes, opens his mind to the Force, reaches out. There is not a lot of Force activity coming from the direction into which they’re headed but there is the now-familiar presence that Kylo thinks is somehow linked to Hux. It does nothing, it just hovers like it’s been hovering ever since he’s detected it. He has tried to probe Hux’ mind for it but he can’t reach into Hux the way he reaches into others. It’s like trying to fish in shallow water but Kylo is certain Hux’ mind is anything but shallow. Is there such a thing as dormant Force-sensitivity? Wouldn’t Snoke have noticed? Or was Hux—tested Force-ignorant upon entering the First Order—never important enough for Snoke to probe him personally? The only person who might know something about the peculiarities of the Force’s manifestations is his uncle Luke, but the stars alone know where he is hiding.

There’s a knock at his door.

“Ren?”

He emerges from his meditative state with practiced ease.

“Yes?”

Hux cracks the door open and peers inside. “We’re about to dock. You ready?”

“Would it make any difference if I said I wasn’t?”

“No.”

“There you go. Guess I’m ready then.”

They head towards the command centre and strap themselves into the passenger seats. Chewbacca lands the _Falcon_ while Solo is chatting away with ground control staff. It sounds as if he’s known them forever but Kylo is fairly certain this is not the case. His father has always had a knack for chatting his way around and into almost anything and time hasn’t changed that.

When it’s time to disembark, Solo pulls Kylo into a fierce embrace.

“Hope you don’t mind me staying aboard,” he says. “I have funny memories of this place and they just don’t get any better.”

Kylo pats his father’s back, unsure what is expected of him. “Thanks for everything, Dad,” he finally says and his voice is not quite steady. Hopefully Hux doesn't notice. “We’ll be all right.”

“I know you will be, son.” Solo hands each of them a stack of credits. “To get you started,” he explains. “Lodgings are on levels fifty and upwards.” He turns to Hux and presents him with what looks like a datacard. “You might find this useful. It contains information that will help you get around and to, uh, familiarise with the place.”

“Thank you.” Hux eyes the card and pockets it, then extends his hand. “Thank you,” he starts but Solo pulls him into a hug, too. Kylo doesn’t even try to hide his grin. Hux’ face is priceless.

“Thank you, kid, for saving Ben’s life.” Now it’s Solo’s voice that is a little shaky. “You take very good care of each other, yes?”

Hux throws Kylo a near-desperate glance and Kylo, feeling a rare wave of sympathy rise up, places a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Yes, Dad,” he says. “We’ll be good boys and try to stay out of trouble. You may let go of Hux now.”

“Of course.”

Solo steps back but hugging time is not quite over yet for Chewbacca needs to say his good-byes, too, throws his long hairy arms first around Kylo, then around Hux, growling something into Hux’ ear that makes him snort with amusement and to Kylo’s surprise, Hux not only returns the Wookiee’s hug but lets him ruffle his hair, too. Kylo has never seen Hux with his hair anything other than combed into perfection, and for a moment he’s taken aback how different he looks. How… young.

Hux catches Kylo staring at him and smoothes his hair back into order. “I will miss you too, Chewie,” he says. “And I hope we’ll get to see each other again some time.”

Then it is time and they walk down the _Falcon’s_ gangway and head for the arrivals hall. Before they turn around the corner that will lead them away from the landing pads, Kylo throws one last glance over his shoulder. The hatch door has already been pulled up again but the engine is not yet running. He raises a hand to wave a farewell, knowing his father is watching them, then turns his attention to what’s before them.

Which is chaos. Pure and simple. He blinks. This is not what he remembers. It’s been a long time, yes, but he remembers gates through which arrivals were shepherded towards a customs section. No such thing now. Seems everyone comes and goes as he or she pleases.

“What the—” Hux sounds equally stunned but before he has the chance to say anything, a blue-haired male humanoid dressed in the brightest of greens and yellows comes all but running towards them.

“Greetings,” he wheezes when he comes to a halt. “Apologies for not meeting you upon arrival but you weren’t expected for another three standard days. Rlunay’s lips, am I glad you are here. My name is Il’Yask and I was assigned to be your personal secretary.”

Hux’ eyebrows shoot up but Kylo silences him with a glance. “And why is that?” he asks in a bored voice. “I thought it was all settled and agreed upon. What seems to be the problem now?”

“Uhm, well—”

“Yes?” He lets a frosty undertone creep into his voice.

Il’Yask takes a deep breath and straightens. “There have been rumours that Crylliunn the Hutt has begun to take over Port Town and plans to move his way up before long.”

“Crylliunn the Hutt?”

“Yes, I know, we had thought him to be safely detained but the Hutt Clan still has some influence, sadly. We have no idea when exactly he got here but it must have been a while.”

“Why is that?”

“The sheer amount of reports from Port Town and the lower levels. Way beyond what any proper administration could manage, and we haven’t had a proper administration in a long while.”

“Why don’t you take us to where we are expected and fill us in on the way there.” Hux cuts in, sounding brisk and efficient. “I have always found direct reports to be a very helpful instrument.”

“Thank you, sir, that will be most appreciated.” Il’Yask looks around. “Did you not bring any luggage?”

Hux points to the small trunk. “We thought it best not to waste too much time packing. I trust everything can be found here, yes? Or has the Hutt taken over the shopping areas as well?”

“Not the ones on the upper levels, no, those have not been touched yet.” He reaches for the trunk and frowns, puzzled, when he finds it a lot lighter than he has expected. “Follow me, please.”

On their way to their transport, Il’Yask rapidly speaks into a comm link attached to his left wrist, confirming that yes, _they_ have arrived and yes, _they_ would like to meet with everybody at everybody’s earliest convenience. Kylo and Hux exchange a glance and remain silent. _No names_ , mouthes Hux and Kylo nods. Understood. It may be best to keep their real names to themselves for the time being.

A repulsorlift limo is waiting for them and Il’Yask motions for them to get in.

“How come there was such a miscalculation with regards to our arrival?” Hux asks. He’s in full General mode now, his face an unreadable mask, his speech clipped. “Are we to assume that everything else is unprepared, too?”

“No, no,” Il’Yask hastens to assure him. “We've not been given a precise time of arrival so we had to draw up an assumption, well, guess-work, really. Which was wrong, obviously. We were merely told that you would arrive not quite unannounced but without much ado.”

“So as to not attract unwanted attention?” Kylo suggests and Il’Yask nods.

“Precisely. Also, we weren’t told who exactly to expect. Two humans of striking appearance—”

Out of the corner of his eye Kylo sees Hux blink and suppresses a grin.

“—one red, one dark, experienced at dealing with crises such as this,” Il’Yask continues. “That’s all we knew. Then one of our ground control workers recognised the _Millennium Falcon_ and alerted us.”

“How is that?”

“The _Falcon_ has helped us before,” Il’Yask explains. “Well, not the _Falcon_ as such, obviously, but her captain. He never leaves his assigned landing pad and more often than not it’s the Wookiee we deal with but yes, when we saw the _Falcon_ we knew you had arrived. But rest assured, we are not wholly unprepared. Status reports have been drawn up for your perusal and the Director in charge is brimming with impatience. Your quarters are being readied as we speak and your droids are lined up for inspection, as are your guards.”

“Our guards?”

“You may wish to inspect the premises, sir, and I strongly recommend not venturing below level fifty without bodyguards.”

“I see.”

They fall silent and Kylo digs deep in his brain for facts about Bespin and Cloud City, other than what his father told him. Digs for anything, really, but it’s only the sweet-sand cookies he remembers and Chewbacca carrying him whenever he got tired. It’s been too long. He will have to consult with Hux as soon as they are alone. He’s certain Hux will be able to pull a few more facts about Bespin and Cloud City’s history out of that brain of his but from what he picks up as the limo takes them to wherever they're expected, it feels as if the City is about to lose its grip on itself. There are no signs of obvious neglect, at least not on the upper levels, it's more of a notion, a vague premonition, maybe. A feeling of unrest. Like casting suspicious glances over one's shoulder, waiting for something unpleasant to happen any given minute.

When they arrive, they are met by a small delegation who seem to share Il’Yask’s relief at seeing them. There’s a Pantoran, two Togrutas, a Pau’an, a Zeltron, even a Zabrak. They shake hands, clasp wrists, nod. Kylo forgets their names the instant he hears them but he notes their presence in the Force. It’s his way of memorising things and people and he will add their names later. The Pau’an seems a kind of leader, though, and so he is careful to catch her name. Ser Te-Onh. Her age is impossible to determine but her voice is pleasant, almost melodic and sounds young by human standards. Given the race’s long lifespan, she may be well over four-hundred standard years.

They are ushered into what looks like a luxury hotel—expensive carpets, exquisite pieces of art, colourful floral arrangements, but there is not much time to fully take in their surroundings. A sliding door opens into a large conference room where there’s more beings waiting for them. A holoprojector has been set up in the middle of the U shape arrangement of desks and there’s datapads lying on each place.

Ser Te-Onh steps forward and gestures for Kylo and Hux to join her. When the noise dies down and everyone has taken his, her or its seat, she raises her hands.

“Greetings, worthy colleagues, and thank you for agreeing to meet despite the very short notice. It would seem the help we asked for has arrived earlier than expected and I am pleased to introduce you to—” Here she stops and creases her brows, apparently realising she has no idea whom to introduce.

“I am No-One,” Kylo says with a winning smile, “and this is the General. You will certainly understand that we prefer to remain nameless for the time being. Thank you for meeting us. We've been given to understand there has been a miscommunication regarding our exact time of arrival and for that, we apologise.”

“Il’Yask was kind enough to present us with a very brief overview of the current situation,” Hux cuts in. “If we are to define the mission that lies before us, we need to hear the facts—all of them. Only if you share your knowledge and your individual assessment of the current goings-on we will be able to develop a strategy that will lead to the desired results.”

Murmurs of approval are heard and Kylo feels waves of relief and careful hope rise up amongst those present.

Ser Te-Onh inclines her head. “Thank you, General, and thank you, No-One. We respect your request for anonymity and we are grateful for your willingness to listen. Pray take a seat.”

She remains standing while Hux and Kylo sit down. Hux takes the seat next to Il’Yask who shoves a datapad and a touch pen his way. Hux accepts both with a nod and powers the datapad up, flicks through what’s been stored on it. When Il’Yask offers a similar set to Kylo, he shakes his head. Let Hux handle facts, data and assessments; he will concentrate on what’s being said, and how, and even more important: what’s not being said. That’s how they’ve worked together in the past and he intends to keep it that way.

The Pantoran stands up. “My name is Michi Kwondo,” he begins. “I represent the merchants’ guild. Over the course of the last four standard months, there has been a steady decline in business profits, and not only that.”

 

When they say their good-byes for the day, Kylo feels exhausted. What the pfassking hell and damnation has his father got them into? Is that his idea of keeping them safe? A city that’s slowly being taken over by the Hutt Clan? With Tibanna tappers stealing from the refineries? And what of the two humans that are undoubtedly on their way here? What will happen if they arrive in three days’ time, claiming their place as Cloud City’s saviours? He needs to sit down with Hux, and he urgently needs to speak with his father, too. Hopefully their quarters will be fully equipped with holo transmitters and functioning comm links.

He knows by now that they’re in the Grand Bespin, one of the City’s most luxurious hotels, if not _the_ most luxurious hotel. Everything is of superior quality—staff, food, drinks, equipment, even the facilities where Kylo has studied himself in the floor-length mirrors. He looks worn out, he thinks, and that scar in his face does nothing to improve that. It’s longer than he’s thought and it’s still of an angry red. His clothes look like he’s slept in them for a while, which he has, and he feels as if he hasn’t showered in days, which he hasn’t. The _Falcon_ does have facilities but she’s a smuggler ship above all, not designed for her passengers’ comfort. He yearns for a real shower with real water and for a proper shave, too.

The lift chimes and the doors slide soundlessly open.

“Welcome to your quarters, gentlemen,” Il’Yask says with a grand gesture. “This is to be yours for as long as you want to remain here. I trust you will find everything to your satisfaction.”

They step out of the lift and into what looks like the hotel’s Presidential Suite with a wide, generous entrance area that leads into an equally generous living space.

“You will find a fully equipped office here,” Il’Yask opens a door to the right and Hux gives an appreciative nod. “You have two bathrooms at your disposal, both with water refreshers—”

Kylo nearly whoops with joy.

“Fresh clothes are here,” the next door opens to a dressing room. “For now it contains the merest basics, I’m afraid. When I realised you had travelled so very lightly,” he casts a meaningful glance toward the small trunk that’s been set down next to one of the wardrobes, “I took the liberty of instructing the housekeeping droid to supply some simple trousers, tunics and underthings. You may leave your clothes in the entrance area and your personal housekeeper will clean, mend and press them overnight.”

“Good thinking, Il’Yask,” Hux approves. “We will make do with what we have until there’s time to plan beyond the most pressing matters. I trust there’s nothing of a ceremonial nature planned that would require us to don formal dress?”

“No, there is not. The guild representatives and the business leaders will want to speak with you and you may wish to get a picture of the current situation. No dresscode required.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Il’Yask nods and opens another door. “The master bedroom,” he explains. “The colouring has just recently been changed to infuse the guests’ mind and spirit with calm and freshness.” He sounds like a holo advert. “Here, you will be able to refresh and replenish.”

Kylo frowns. “Only one bed?”

“Why, yes. Is that not to your liking?”

“We don’t usually share a bed,” Hux says.

Il’yask looks taken aback. “But the memo said we were to expect a bonded couple.”

Kylo starts as if to protest but this time it’s Hux who silences him with a glance.

“I tend to work very late,” he explains, “and my, uh, partner prefers to get up very early. We’ve therefore established two separate bedrooms to better match our individual sleeping habits.”

“I see.” It’s clear from Il’yask’s puzzled expression that he does not see at all.

“Not all bonds are alike,” Hux points out. “I’m sure this suite has a guestroom.”

“Why, yes of course it does.” He rushes to open another door behind which there’s a comfortable-looking room with a bed that’s not quite as wide as the one in the master bedroom but far from narrow. There’s a desk and a built-in wardrobe, too.

“Perfect,” Hux says.

“I’ll take the big one,” Kylo states matter-of-factly.

“Of course you will, dear.” Hux looks as if he’s beginning to enjoy himself and Il’Yask visibly relaxes.

“All necessary codes and information should have been uploaded into your datapad by now, General,” he says. “Your individual comm links will be delivered tomorrow. If you need to speak with someone before that, you will find a fully functional holoprojector in the office. The secure line is on station nineteen-oh-five. I will meet you at ten o’clock to discuss the tentative schedule which I will have set up by then.”

“Understood,” Hux says. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, General. Goodnight.”

When the lift doors slide close, Kylo stretches his arms above his head and yawns.

“I don’t know about you, _dear_ , but before I can discuss anything that needs discussing, I need a shower. And fresh clothes. And I must speak with my father. Yeah, I should do that first of all.”

“You should indeed. See if he knows anything that might help us or if he can find out about the two humans who were originally sent for. I’ll go through my notes and look at what Il’Yask’s uploaded into my datapad.”

 

The holocall to the _Falcon_ goes through immediately.

“Hello, son.”

“Dad, do you have any idea what’s been going on here since the last time you visited?”

“Well, I know it’s been a bit of a muddle but—”

“Muddle? That’s one way of putting it. Did you know that the Hutt Clan is extending their short greedy arms to take over this place?”

“The Hutts?” Solo looks genuinely surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Crylliunn the Hutt ring a bell?”

“Crylliunn? Isn’t that one of old Jabba’s nephews?”

“Not sure about that but he’s supposed to be locked away.”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed. And you know what? People around here think that Hux and I have been sent to rid their city of the pestilence that’s befallen it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am not. Do you have any idea whom they might have sent for?”

“None at all. Listen, kid, that datacard I gave Hux?”

“Yeah?”

“It contains some inside info on how this place used to be run, you know, who to get in touch with, who to avoid. Most of all, it contains Lando’s direct line. He asked me to give it to you in case you run into trouble. Which you have, obviously, so you might want to, uh, reach out to him. I’m sure he can help.”

“You really think that’s a good idea? He’s been gone for so long.”

“Not for that long. He still knows people and if anyone can help, it’s him. Are you boys okay so far, apart from that?”

“We’re staying at the Grand Bespin.”

His father gives a low whistle. “Not bad.”

“We’ve been given the penthouse suite with our own housekeeping droid. We have a personal secretary, too. Oh, and everybody thinks we’re—” he breaks off. His father doesn’t need to know about the ‘bonded couple’ thing or he’ll give him another earful about how he and Hux were holding hands that day when in fact Hux had given him a hand massage and nothing else. No, best keep that to himself.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. I better check back with Hux. He’s going through some of the reports he’s been given.”

“He’s quite the smart kid, isn't he.”

“Very smart. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Take care, son.”

“You too, Dad.”

With that, he ends the connection.

What now?

His eyes fall to the badly mended tear on his sleeve. Fresh clothes. Shower. Then sit down with Hux. Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

Things usually look less grim after a good, long shower.


	6. Chapter 6

Hux stretches and yawns, rubs his eyes and stretches some more. He’s spent half an eternity brooding over reports and memos from merchants, former and current administrative staff, guild representatives, citizens. In the end, it all boils down to the simple fact that the city’s profits are slowly and steadily dropping but nobody seems prepared to accept responsibility and pull all loose ends back together. Nobody seems inclined to deal with the rubble that’s forming at the bottom of the city, either. But now they all come running to the hotel suite he shares with Ren, hoping he will make time and fix their problems for them. Either that, or he finds himself sitting in his office, going through more reports and more complaints.

Ren has fled after only one morning of meetings and Hux hasn’t seen him since. He’s not particularly worried about that, though. Ren is a powerful Force-user with an uncanny ability to read and manipulate those around him, a skilled fighter who knows better than to get into trouble in unknown territory. In all likelihood he will return with reports of his own.

He checks the time. It’s almost midnight by standard reckoning and his eyes are starting to burn but there is one last call he needs to make before he climbs into bed. The datacard Han Solo gave to Hux contains the direct holo line of one Lando Calrissian, former Baron Administrator of Cloud City. Hux has found a few entries about the man in the database he’s got access to. It’s not an awful lot of facts but it reads as if Calrissian used to be a smuggler and conman in his early days and then joined the Rebellion at some later point, much like Solo. Nevertheless he managed to keep the city and its many inhabitants together and functioning while he was in charge which Hux finds remarkable, given the man’s patchwork past.

Time to meet him, if only by holo. With one last yawn, he enters the security code he needs to establish a long-distance connection, hoping Calrissian is in a somewhat compatible time zone, and waits for the call to connect. It doesn’t take long and the face and shoulders of a dark-skinned human male of indeterminable age comes into view.

“General Calrissian?” Hux asks.

“The very same.” Calrissian smiles at him. He looks wide awake, chipper even. “And you must be the kid Han’s told me about.”

Hux groans inwardly. _Kid_.

“The very same,” he echoes Calrissian’s words and Calrissian’s smile broadens as if they’ve just exchanged a secret handshake. “My name is Armitage Hux, former General of the First Order, and—”

“—everybody thinks you and Ben have come to save the galaxy,” Calrissian ends the sentence for him. “Yes, I heard about that mess. Han and I had a good laugh about that.”

 _I bet you did._ “Then you have probably also heard that the humans who were originally contacted should arrive any moment now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. They won’t.”

“How so?”

“I have taken the liberty of, uhm, conducting an investigation of my own and my team has managed to track the pair down.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Have they been successfully disposed of?”

“Let’s just say they received a better offer and decided against Cloud City and for Atrankis V.”

“What’s on Atrankis—no, I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t,” confirms Calrissian. “So, Hux, how may I help you?”

“You may help me by telling me how to access the central database. I was given a datapad to work with and countless reports to read but it would seem the central database that contains crucial information was hacked into and is now blocked for unauthorised access.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, none of the codes I was given has worked so far.”

Calrissian taps his lower lip. “That is quite a nuisance.”

“It is indeed.”

“I'm afraid I can't help you with that. I currently have no hacker in my pay. I can make some enquiries, though.”

“Thanks for offering but it's not yet a priority. I'll handle it as soon as the most pressing issues have been dealt with.”

“All right. What else have you got?”

Hux takes a deep breath and walks Calrissian through what he’s figured out so far. The older man’s demeanour changes from jovial to no-nonsense efficiency and over the course of their conversation he sends Hux a full back-up copy of the now blocked database that he’s downloaded into his personal system at some time in the past. Most of the data will be outdated and Calrissian apologises for that but Hux thanks him anyway. It’s better than what he has, which is: nothing. The file is compressed and heavily encrypted but Calrissian gives him the necessary codes. What’s more, he provides him with full access to his former business accounts.

“That’s hardly necessary, sir,” Hux protests. He will not draw from another’s funds.

“Don’t work yourself into a fit. It’s the Baron Administrator’s accounts, not my private assets. I left during a time of unease, came back during a time of even more unease and when I last had dealings in Cloud City I took the precaution of locking the official accounts, seeing there would not be a proper Administrator any time soon and I’d sooner be damned than let some scum feast on my earnings.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?”

“Not for the moment, no. You’ve been more than helpful, sir. May I contact you again if there are further questions?”

“Anytime, kid. Always happy to help out.”

They end the call and the moment the holo transmitter switches off, so does Hux’ brain. All of a sudden, he is so exhausted that he cannot imagine getting up from the desk. If he closes his eyes for just one little moment—just a tiny second…

 

“Wake up. Hux, come on. Wake up.”

He wakes with a start, heart hammering in his chest. _What the…_ He blinks from a dead man’s sleep back into consciousness and recognises Ren who crouches next to his chair.

“What—” he croaks, clears his throat and tries again. “What is it, Ren? What time is it?”

“No idea. Some time after two, I think. It’s nothing. I just got back.” He rises, towers over Hux. “I was hoping to go through some of the things I've found out, see if they correspond with all of the stuff you’ve undoubtedly been reading but I think now is not a good time.”

“Now is as good a time as any,” Hux hastens to assure him and gets up from his chair. He will not be dwarfed by Ren who’s actually not that much taller, maybe one and a half, two inches, if at all. “In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to return. There’s indeed a number of things I’d like to discuss with you.” He suppresses a yawn on the last couple of words and Ren huffs.

“You’re in no condition to discuss anything. Let’s go to bed and talk over breakfast.” He yawns, too. “You eat breakfast, don’t you?”

“I do, yes. In fact, I’ve scheduled a breakfast meeting with—”

“Cancel it,” Ren interrupts. “Or better yet, have Il’Yask cancel for you. Tell him the General needs to go through a few things with his partner.” There’s the tiniest of pauses before _his partner_ but Hux nods, pretending not to have noticed.

“You’re right. We’ve barely spoken since we’ve arrived. We need to catch up and take some time for us, too.” Hux realises what he’s just said when Ren snickers. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know what you meant, Hux. You’re tired. So am I. Message Il’Yask and tell him to cancel that meeting and have him come by around ten or so. There’s a few things I need to ask him, too.”

“Will do.” This time, Hux doesn’t try to suppress his yawn and Ren yawns right with him.

Ren disappears into the master bedroom and Hux falls onto his own bed, crawls under the blanket as he is and is fast asleep within seconds.

******

“This place is a time bomb,” Ren says, his mouth full.

They’ve ordered breakfast—a selection of meat, fruit, bread, some pastry, scrambled eggs, fruit juice and caf—and Ren’s loaded an impressive heap on his plate.

“You know, you could help yourself to more than one portion instead of wolfing it all down in one go,” Hux observes.

“I’m hungry.”

“So I see.”

Ren points to Hux’ bowl of yoghurt and fruit.

“That all you eat?”

“Unlike you I don’t need to sustain the mass of a small planet.” He eyes the arrangement of pancakes, nerfsteak and eggs on Ren’s plate and reaches for the caf. “How can you eat all this and still look so—” He makes a vague gesture.

“It goes straight to my cock.”

Hux spills the caf. Ren guffaws.

“Your face, Hux!”

“You’re an arse, Ren.”

“Anytime, Armitage.”

“Fuck off.” He reaches for the pancakes. “Now, why do you think the city is a time bomb?”

“I’ve been doing some wandering, mainly on levels 120 and down, you know, the part they call Port Town.”

“That’s where the privately owned industrial areas are?”

“Exactly. Loading bays, gambling pits, cheap rental housing. That’s where you hear the good stuff and find the most interesting beings. All sorts, all races, all species.”

“Sounds delightful. What about the Hutts?”

“They’re there, but still pretty much in the background. Sizing the place up, I’d say. On levels 160 and down, there’s the factory workers’ housing area. They’re concerned about their shops being taken over by, well, let’s call them dubious individuals. Prices have increased, there’s been racketeering, harassment, burglaries, you name it. City Police are starting to turn a blind eye, workers are wondering if a private militia would be a good idea.”

“Hm.” Hux starts nibbling on the pancake. It’s good, but not as sweet as he’s hoped, and he helps himself to a portion of the syrupy sauce that’s come with the pancakes. He takes another bite and hums. _Better_. “Any suggestions?”

“Weed out the vermin before it spreads,” Ren bluntly says.

“You mean, hunt them down and kill them?”

“Not necessarily but if need be, then yes. Make it absolutely clear that you are willing to crush anything or anyone.”

“I’ve been raised to believe that discipline and order are the keys to everything and law is the only effective response to chaos.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough if it’s the Hutts you’re dealing with.”

“I don’t think the City Police, or what remains of it, are fit to handle this.”

“Neither do I. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them are already on the Hutts’ payroll. Or on somebody else’s. What you need, if you want to do this right, is a group of specialists. Trained fighters, willing to get their hands dirty.”

“Like the—” Hux stops himself just in time but Ren catches his meaning nevertheless.

“No,” he says. “Not like the Knights of Ren. These times are behind me, Hux. Behind you, too. This is our chance to start something new and I don’t intend to make it a copy of what was. Besides, I will not work with other Force-users, not now. Not yet.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure you do. But you will. In time, you will.”

Hux is not entirely certain what Ren’s talking about but he will not get into another philosophical discussion about the Force and its dark and light sides.

“So,” he says. “Specialists, eh. And would you know where to find them?”

Ren shrugs. “Not yet. But that’s just a matter of time and asking the right questions.”

“And a matter of credits,” Hux points out. “Which brings me to the next point. I had a very insightful conversation with Lando Calrissian.”

“You did? Found out anything helpful?”

“I did.”

And he tells Ren what he’s learnt from the former Baron Administrator, including the bit about the business account.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Ren says. “Who would have thought. But the database problem—do you think you can fix that?”

“I’ve not had a chance to really look into it but no, I don’t think I can. I’m afraid that exceeds my abilities.”

“Wait, what?” Ren gives him a look of mock astonishment. “Is that even possible?”

“Shut up, Ren. I know my way around most systems, and pretty well, too, but I am no specialist. We might need a hacker for that.”

“Put it on the list of people we need.”

“Noted. Now, that group of specialists.”

“What of it?”

“Do you think it’d take long to, uh, recruit a handful of beings who can be trusted?”

“Define trusted.”

“Willing to—how did you phrase it—crush anything or anyone.”

“By themselves?”

“Of course not. Under supervision.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yours, of course,” Hux says without hesitation. He’s thought about how to divide the responsibilities and there is really only one option that makes sense. Although he has refined his father’s Stormtrooper programme, has tailored it to fit the Order’s needs and has personally supervised the selection of potential candidates, he has never taken part in the actual drilling of the recruits. His focus has always been on strategy and technology, his approach scientific rather than hands-on. Ren, on the other hand, used to be Snoke’s hatchet man and Hux hopes he won’t take offence at having this role assigned to him again.

“Are you asking me to be your muscle?” Thankfully, Ren sounds more amused than annoyed.

“I am, yes.”

“I won’t answer to you.”

“We’ll answer to each other, Ren,” Hux points out. “Here, it’s just the two of us. I cannot do this by myself. Neither can you. We’ll have to do this together, or not at all.”

Ren slowly nods. His gaze loses focus, as if he has to briefly consult with the Force. Hux knows better than to expect an immediate reply when Ren slips into this insta-trance of his and so he waits.

“Very well,” Ren finally says. “You’ll take care of strategy and politics and I will carry out the dirty work for you.”

“Thank you,” Hux says, not bothering to hide his relief. “I know it’s beneath you but let’s face it, I’m nowhere near as physically intimidating as you are and I’m not half as battle-experienced, either.”

The corners of Ren’s mouth twitch and he acknowledges the truth of that statement with a slight bow of his head. “And you will not argue with my methods?”

“I will not. At least not before others,” he adds, only half-joking. “What’s more, I promise to keep all strategy and business meetings away from you. Unless there are decisions to be taken, that is. I will need your input for that.”

“You will?” Ren sounds genuinely surprised.

“Of course. Haven’t you listened to what I just said?”

“Together, or not at all.”

“There you go.”

Ren falls silent, chews on his lower lip.

“What?” Hux asks.

“It’s just—”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

“Ren—”

A chime at the door announces a visitor. Ren gets up to open the door before Hux has a chance to ask more questions. It’s Il’Yask, and he’s come prepared.

“Good morning, General,” he greets Hux and hands him a datapad. “I’ve taken the liberty to summarize yesterday’s findings and have pulled together the most pressing issues at hand.”

“Thank you, Il’Yask. I’ll take a look at all of this at once but before we sit down to go through today’s schedule, No-One has a few questions for you, too.”

“Of course.” Il’Yask turns around and looks up at Ren. “How may I help you, sir?”

“Sit,” Ren says and gestures towards an empty chair. “Have some breakfast, if you like.”

Il’Yask politely declines and sits down at the very edge of the chair. He’s obviously still intimidated by Ren, Hux notices with amusement.

“I’ll be in my office,” Hux says and turns to go. “Oh, and Il’Yask?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Yes, General?”

“Can you recommend a tailor droid?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Make an appointment for me, please.”

“Certainly.”

Hux nods and disappears into his office. One glance at the datapad’s index is enough to understand Il’Yask has not been idle. There’s lots to read. Lots. And then some.

He sighs. But it’s not an unhappy sigh. Hux is not unhappy. Far from it. This is his chance to start from scratch, to build something new, and he intends to take that chance and not let it slip away.

******

Over the next weeks, he meets with the city’s business leaders, with guild members of various standing and representatives of the medical community. He meets with law officers, too, with representatives of the courts, with the police. Most of them seem grateful that somebody is finally willing to shoulder the responsibility of governing the city, freeing them of tasks that have taken them away from their businesses and crafts. And then there are those who have begun to arrange themselves with the way things are now and who seem disinclined to appreciate an outsider’s meddling, let alone answer to a new Administrator.

Hux listens to them all, takes notes and commits names and faces to his memory, along with the nature of their individual concerns and complaints.

He familiarises himself with the city’s layout and infrastructure and inspects some of the bigger factories, either by himself or accompanied by Il’Yask who has turned out to be a near-endless source of facts, background information and gossip. Ser Te-Onh, on the other hand, is his main contact where the guilds and businesses are concerned. She is well versed in the city’s history and painstakingly introduces him to politics and all matters of particular sensitivity.

Hux listens, watches, asks questions, absorbs facts and reads, reads, reads. His days are full, his schedule tightly packed. It is as it should be. It is how he likes it. He sleeps well, too.

At night he sits down with Ren to discuss the day’s results. Ren seems to be making good progress at his end as well. Hux has not yet met his motley group of mercenaries and assassins but intends to do so as soon as Ren tells him they’re ready. It all sounds as if they’ve already accepted Ren as their leader but Hux understands that the pecking order must be firmly established before anybody else comes in. Hux has always respected Ren’s skills as a fighter but he has begun to value his insights, too. Through his connection with the Force, Ren has a unique way of seeing and understanding things and Hux is intrigued by the sheer amount of information he picks up. It’s something he’s come to look forward to, catching up with Ren. There is only one thing he enjoys even more than their nightly talks, and that's getting up to have breakfast with Ren. They’re both early risers, both by habit but also by preference, and while they don’t talk much over breakfast, the silence between them is companionable. Taking a quick breakfast all by himself, like he’s done in the past and like he’s doing just now, just isn’t enjoyable anymore.

They get along surprisingly well without Snoke playing them against each other. It’s as if a cloud has lifted from their lives. Ren has lost most of his scowl and Hux has begun to let his guard down around him. It hasn’t taken them long to find out that their individual skill sets are a seamless fit, not the hindrance Snoke has made them believe all these years. They’re front and back, brain and muscle, analysis and instinct, hand to wrist. And yet there are moments where Ren pulls back, withdraws into a world within himself. He doesn’t speak about it and Hux doesn’t ask but he wonders whether Snoke has truly dropped Ren or whether he lurks in a faraway corner of the Force, ready to yank Ren’s leash when the mood takes him.

What then?

It’s only been a few weeks but already he cannot imagine his life without Ren in it. Well, strictly speaking, Ren’s been in his life far longer than just a few weeks but he never made an effort to get to know the man behind that stupid mask. He cannot understand for the life of him why he ever took such pains to keep a distance.

_Well, you know why. And it’s taken a planet to collapse to finally admit it to yourself._

How can he look at Ren and not think about how it felt to hold him or how he enjoyed playing with Ren’s hair? Not remember how wonderfully solid his body is? His big, powerful body—

 _Enough_.

He’s got a job to do and chasing daydreams is not part of it. He gets up and smoothes the front of his new uniform jacket. It doesn’t need smoothing but he likes the feel of the fabric. The tailor droid Il’Yask has recommended has done a very good job indeed and Hux has disposed of his old uniform without regret. He’s done with the First Order, as done as he never thought he would be with an organisation he’s helped shape. Despite all of his achievements, he was always Brendol Hux’ bastard son. Ditched for something that wasn’t his fault. Here, he is the General. With a capital G. And Ren by his side. Fuck the First Order.

He squares his shoulders and picks up the datapad.

“Il’Yask, I’m on my way,” he says into his comm link. “If there is anything I need to see before meeting the crafters, please upload it into my account.”

“Yes sir,” comes the prompt reply. “I’ve already sent you last year’s budget and annual reports.”

Hux taps on the datapad. It’s all there. “Got it,” he confirms and heads for the lift. It’s already on its way up and when the doors slide open, he steps forward without looking up from the table he’s studying.

“The hell—”

“What the—”

Ren’s stepped out the moment Hux stepped forward. It’s like walking into a wall.

“Oh, it’s you, Ren,” Hux says and Ren, at the same time, “Morning, Hux.”

“Been working out?”

Ren’s in his fighting leathers but carries his tunic over his arm. His braces hang loosely by his sides and he’s got his hair tied back in an untidy bun. The helmet has fallen to the floor and he bends down to pick it up.

“I have, yeah. I really like that gym. Made a friend there, too. You should try it some time.”

“What, the gym or making friends?”

“Both.”

“No thanks.” Hux works out at the high-tech gym of their hotel. He’s not interested in pumping iron like Ren does. He prefers the treadmill and likes that he can book a private dojo to go through his drills and routines. He’s never been good at socialising. “Sorry I can’t stay but I’m meeting the crafters’ guild today.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Can’t be as bad as the scholars.”

Ren makes a face and Hux laughs.

“Exactly so.”

Their shoulders brush when Ren moves away from the door and Hux catches a whiff of Ren’s scent before he steps into the lift. It’s a mix of shampoo and leather, of clean, fresh sweat, of the sugary caf-travesty he likes. It shoots straight into his system, fuels the memories his treacherous brain eagerly pulls up again and he’s grateful for the exquisitely tailored uniform jacket he’s wearing. It's got just the right length.

Ren stares at him with an expression that’s impossible to read but just before the lift doors slide close, he thinks Ren’s dark eyes have darkened some more. It’s making his skin tingle.

 

This is not good.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The lift doors close but the scent Kylo’s come to associate with Hux lingers. It’s a mixture of the shampoo and bodywash Hux likes, spicy and crisp, and Kylo thinks it suits him well. But that’s not what makes him stay rooted to his spot and stare at the lift.

Hux wants him.

Wants… him?

When—how— _really_? But the wave of pure, unadulterated desire that’s hit him just before the doors slid close was impossible to misinterpret. His own immediate reaction is equally impossible to misinterpret and boy is he glad he’s chosen to put his fighting leathers back on after his training session. His loose workout pants would have made him embarrassingly obvious.

Thing is, he’s wanted Hux for so long that he cannot remember a time he’s not thought about him in ways that are entirely inappropriate, given their constellation thus far. But he’s wanted him pretty much since the day they met, back when he had just reached the rank of Master of the Knights of Ren, back when Hux was not yet General but Major, back when Snoke introduced him to the uptight, haughty young man whose voice cracked like a whip and whose cool green eyes had the ability to make an entire command room freeze over.

Hux is everything Kylo is not. He knows every-kriffing-thing, he’s calm, controlled, disciplined, he’s neat, tidy and organised. His face is an unreadable mask most of the time but Kylo has learnt to read his minimalistic body language—the angry twitch of his nose and the way he presses his lips together, can tell by the degree of rigidity in his spine whether something has merely displeased him, whether he’s furious or whether Snoke has once again questioned one of his decisions. Other than that, he cannot read Hux at all, and that intrigues and mystifies him. A human mind should be an open book to one as strong in the Force as Kylo Ren. Hux’ mind is a brick wall to him. Which is impossible because Kylo knows Hux’ mind is as sharp as Kylo’s lightsabre.

He unfreezes, shakes his head at himself and walks into their suite, drops his helmet on the gigantic sofa, unfastens his trousers and sighs with relief as the pressure is taken off his cock. _Ah, better_. In his bedroom, he lets his tunic and coat fall to the floor and takes off his boots. At the very beginning of this strange cohabitation, he let everything fall to the floor where he stood and went, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind him just like he’d always done until one day—

_“May I ask what you think you’re doing?”_

_“What?”_

_“Dropping your shit wherever you go.”_

_“Oh, that. The cleaning droids will pick it up.”_

_“They clean up after we’ve had breakfast. You seriously expect me to perform a hurdle race each time I need to go somewhere?”_

_“Come on, Hux, it’s just clothes.”_

_“Unacceptable. You know very well I hold meetings here. I will not subject our new business partners to the sight of your shirts and socks cluttering our place.”_

_Our_ new business partners. _Our_ place _._

And that was that. No more cluttering, and he’s getting better at it, too.

It’s developing well, this strange partnership of theirs. Hux has taken to his new post like a Mon Calamari to water and is handling the business and politics with the efficiency and ease of one destined to rule, juggles meetings, site visits, complaints and individual sensitivities without ever appearing tired of it. It suits him well, being in charge, and he’s lost much of the stick up his arse—not that he’s has become much of a charmer but his spine is no longer rigid and his face no longer a mask. At least not when they are alone, holding their nightly catch-ups or taking their breakfast together, and Kylo has begun to look forward to spending time with Hux.

Much to Kylo’s surprise Hux actually meant what he said about them handling this together. During their first week in Cloud City, Kylo half expected him to snatch up command, flaunting his military rank before everyone to see and rubbing his academic training in Kylo’s face. Instead, he asks for Kylo’s opinion and assessment and listens intently to what he has to say. It’s the first time Kylo feels like he’s truly part of a team and not just a vessel offering an extra supply of the Force for a master to tap into, or a powerful weapon carrying out somebody else’s dirty work. Oh, he does carry out the dirty work for Hux, too, but it’s different. Hux doesn’t tell him how to do his job nor does he question his methods.  

It’s funny how his once fiercest rival has suddenly become his partner. Hux is not someone he would have chosen, not in a hundred years, but now that the Force has seen it fit to throw them together, it’s surprising what a good fit they really are. They’ve even begun to share jokes and laugh together, and this, well, this is something Kylo has never thought was even possible. But it is, and it’s when he finds Hux the most attractive. Because when Hux laughs, he looks a lot younger, carefree even.

He pulls his shirt over his head and peels out of his trousers, toes off his socks. He’s still hard and palms himself lazily. Does Hux walk into the conference room with a hard-on or does he know how to deflate by sheer power of will? He probably does. Well, Kylo doesn’t and he doesn’t intend to try, either. It’s been a while since he’s last indulged himself with a little pleasuring and so he ambles over to his bathroom. Might as well take care of all of his body’s needs because after this workout session, taking a shower is a must.

The door to Hux’ bathroom has been left ajar and Kylo feels his nostrils flare when he walks by. It smells of Hux’ body care products. Kylo stops. What if he showers in there? Hux won’t find out. He’s stuck in a meeting now and by the time he comes back, the droids will have cleaned up and restacked the towels and all traces of his intrusion will have been removed. Yeah, why the pfassk not.

Kylo steps inside and inhales deeply. With his nose _and_ with his mind. Takes in the remnant of Hux' presence. Touches the towel that’s been hung up neatly and that’s damp from use. The towel that’s been rubbed all over Hux’ body. His trim, spare body. Narrow shoulders, sinewy arms, small waist and long, strong legs. Very long legs. Lust shoots through Kylo and his cock hardens some more. Would Hux allow himself to be taken? What would he look like on his back, with his legs pulled up and spread wide? Would he beg to be fucked or would he command Kylo to fuck him harder? The latter makes him grin but his cock twitches, clearly turned on by the idea of being told to fuck harder. So is Kylo. Very much so.

He steps into the shower and turns on the water, letting his thoughts spin on as he squeezes a generous amount of Hux’ bodywash on his hand and starts soaping up. What if Hux is the one who wants to do the fucking? Telling Kylo to get on his knees and spread? _Head down, arse up, Ren._ The thought gets him so hard he’s beginning to hurt and he closes a soapy fist around himself, imagines it’s Hux who does the grabbing. Hux’ hands are a lot stronger than they look, much like his body. He’s always thought Hux to be the classical career soldier, transported from academy straight into command, soft, manicured, useless. But that was before. Before all of this. He now knows that Hux has hauled his unconscious body around on Starkiller which means he not only has an iron will but muscles and sinews made of steel. He’s felt the strength of Hux’ hands, too, during those hateful days when he was weak and near helpless, felt them massaging his arm and hand, holding him up, supporting him. He knows those hands are calloused, not soft.

Yes, Hux’ hands would be strong around his cock. He closes his fist some more, moans. _Like that. Yeah._

Warm water splashes against his back, runs down his sides as he supports himself against the tiled wall and pumps his cock. Ah, but to have Hux with him now, pressed against the tiles, legs spread and pelvis tilted to welcome Kylo, body slick and wet, red hair plastered against his skull, his voice breaking with lust at Kylo’s merciless onslaught.

_Harder, Ren. You can do better than that._

_Yes, General._

_There, that’s more like it. Yeah. Like that, Ren._

It takes only a few more pulls and Kylo comes hard, harder than he has in a long while. Well, it’s been a long while since he’s last permitted himself the luxury of a good, thorough wank. Things on Starkiller were not particularly lust-inducing and the last few weeks here have been so busy that he’s not had thoughts nor energy to spare.

He turns and lets his head fall back, holds his face into the water and reaches for the controls, turning the steady stream into a soft spray that caresses his body and brings his overheated senses back to normal. It’s probably an utter waste of resources, taking an endless shower like that, but Kylo does not feel particularly remorseful when he finally steps out of the shower. He towels himself off lazily, then pads over to his own bathroom to brush his teeth and shave for he will not use Hux’ toothbrush and he will not use Hux’ razor, either. Hux uses a simple sharp blade, claiming it’s how a gentleman takes care of all things (and Kylo wonders whether that refers to a gentleman’s shaving ritual alone or whether Hux has taken care of other things with a simple sharp blade). Anyway, it’s not how he likes to rid himself of his sparse facial hair and so he reaches for his standard razor that takes care of business without much fuss.

******

He is reassembling his lightsabre when the door to the hotel suite hisses open.

“Hey,” he says without looking up.

“Hey back,” Hux replies. “Broken your lightsabre?”

“No. I thought I’d figured out how to give it a cleaner look.”

“You mean the flickering?”

Kylo looks up just as Hux starts unbuttoning his uniform jacket and for a moment his mind flashes back to his very vivid daydreams. He swallows. Hux now wears a mix between uniform and business suit, tailored to fit his slim build. Gone is the ridiculous padding, gone are the silly trousers. The new silhouette makes him appear very tall and very sharp. Sharp as in dangerous. But also sharp as in… hot. He no longer looks pale as a ghost, either. The shade of grey he’s chosen brings out the green of his eyes and the red of his hair.

“What is it, Ren?”

Kylo lowers his eyes. He cannot allow this to happen. This will surely lead nowhere. He must be compensating. Compensating for the loss of his master’s presence. Yes, that’s what it is.

“Sorry,” he says. “This is really bothering me.”

“What is?”

“What is what?”

Hux sits down, facing him. “Are you quite all right, Ren?”

 _Get your shit together._ “Yes. Sorry. What I mean to say was, I’m annoyed because I can’t seem to stabilise the blades.” He powers the weapon up and frowns at the serrated look of the laser beams. “It’s been bothering me for a while now.”

“But it’s not becoming unstable?”

“No.”

“May I?”

Hux holds out his hand. Kylo hesitates, then hands the weapon over to him. Hux studies the beams, looks at the construction of the handle.

“How does it—ah.”

He’s found the power button and switches it off.

“Can’t you replace the kyber crystal?”

“How do you—” Kylo doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. How does Hux know about the construction of lightsabres? The same way he seems to know everything else. He’s probably read about it somewhere and stored it in that vast memory of his.

“I read about it,” confirms Hux, just as if he’s heard Kylo’s thoughts. “I guess a synthetic crystal is out of the question.”

Kylo huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He takes the weapon out of Hux’ hand and places it on the table. “So, how was your day, _dear_?”

A faint smile flickers across Hux’ features and he leans back against the soft cushions. “A riot on level 271’s been stamped out, there’s been a number of arrests in Port Town and the Bonden cartel suffered a massive loss amongst their deathstick dealers. Rumour has it the city dwellers and facility workers have begun to look to the Enforcer as the restorer of peace and order.”

Kylo snorts.

“Don’t make it sound like I'm a hero.”

“You are to them,” Hux points out. “Guild representatives are telling me a number of shop owners are re-opening their businesses.”

“And that’s good?”

“Of course it is. It’s a sign people are ready to return to their everyday lives. Profits will rise. Merchants will be happy. If only—” he frowns.

“Hm?”

“I really need that central system to work again. The back-up file Calrissian’s sent me was useful, but it’s outdated. Has been outdated for at least twenty standard years. I still have a lot of catching up to do and there’s other subjects I urgently need to research. News stations are unreliable, too. We’re not precisely closed off from the outside worlds but pretty much every bit of news is delayed.”

“You’re worried about the First Order making a move?”

“I am, yes. Aren’t you?”

Kylo shakes his head. “I sense nothing in the Force. If Snoke points a finger, I will know.”

“You will?”

“Hux, he’s been inside my head—inside my system for most of my life. I know what he feels like. He’s left me behind but the link’s not been entirely severed.”

Hux narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re still connected to him?”

“Not at the moment, no. It’s like, mhm, it’s like a line that’s been abandoned but still fully functional. I’ve put up a barrier but—” he gives a half-shrug. “Snoke’s very powerful and I’ve not yet had to build a defence against someone that strong. There’s a lot I need to research, too, and I desperately need to get in touch with someone.”

“With whom?”

Kylo hesitates, then shrugs again. “My uncle.”

“Skywalker?”

“The last living Jedi master, yes. If anyone knows how to shield your mind, it would be him.”

“You think he’ll be willing to speak with you?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo says. “I really don’t know. But I’d like to give it a try.”

“I guess finding a hacker has just become our first priority.”

“I guess so.”

******

But Kylo’s enquiries lead exactly nowhere and it’s beginning to personally irritate him. Surely there must be people in this blasted City who can hack into a kriffing computer system!

It’s with a particularly foul temper that he enters the gym. He feels like hitting something or somebody and so decides on a round of old-fashioned boxing. He starts with rope-jumping, something he’s always hated and that helps to fuel his foul mood, then moves on to body weight squats and lunges with torso rotation. By the time he’s taken it out on the punch bag, he feels calm enough to move on and do some weight-lifting.

“Oh hello, K.”

He looks up from the bar he’s been loading.

“Hello Matt,” he greets his workout partner. “Sorry I couldn’t be here last week.”

The blond human is about his size and like Kylo takes his workout very seriously. They met a few weeks ago and after only one workout session decided to team up whenever their jobs allow. Kylo has come to look forward to working out with Matt, not only because Matt is about the only human who can keep up with Kylo’s workout routine but because he enjoys the company of the tall, silent man. To those who don’t know him or don’t bother getting to know him better, Matt appears sullen and a little slow but Kylo knows he is neither. He’s a radar technician and is studying advanced engineering to push his career and while slow-witted technicians may make it in a controlled surrounding, they wouldn’t survive in a place like this.

“That’s okay. I only managed one session myself last week. There's been a lot to take care of.” He eyes the weights Kylo has put on. “Does it make sense to join you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I. I had a bad day and needed to let off some steam.”

Matt nods. “I know what you mean. I’ll leave you to it then.”

“No,” Kylo quickly says. “I’m all good now. You warm up while I benchpress and when you’re ready we can do back squats together, or maybe overhead press.”

“I was thinking of doing high pulls and lateral raises.”

“Those, too.”

They grin at each other. Their minds work alike where pumping iron is concerned, and Matt's enthusiasm does wonders to Kylo's foul mood that suddenly is not so foul anymore.

 

“Say,” Kylo pants in between split squats, “you wouldn’t know anyone who knows how to hack into a stubborn computer system?”

“Sure do,” Matt pants back.

“Really?” Kylo executes three more reps, then sets his weights down. “You do?”

Matt finishes his set, too, and straightens with a groan. “I do, yeah.”

“And who would that be?”

“My love.”

“What?”

“My love,” Matt repeats and now Kylo remembers. Matt’s partner. He's mentioned him once. A redhead with a troubled past, if Kylo remembers correctly.

“He’s that good?”

“Better,” Matt says without a trace of doubt in his voice. “There’s not a single system he can’t hack into. He’s brilliant, my Techie is. The smartest and cleverest man you will ever meet.”

Kylo opens his mouth because he cannot think of anyone smarter than Hux but closes it again. Matt’s face has softened and Kylo doesn’t need the Force to understand that this Techie is the love of Matt’s life and he better keep his doubts to himself.

“Can I meet him?” he asks instead.

Matt is silent for a moment, seems to mull it over. “I’ll ask him,” he finally says. “He’s a little shy, you know.”

“I understand. Please tell him my, uh, friend needs his help.”

“Would that be the tight-lipped ginger you once mentioned?” Matt winks at him from behind his old-fashioned glasses and Kylo feels the tips of his ears grow hot.

“The very same,” he says. “Please tell your, uh, Techie there’s nothing illegal about it. No violence whatsoever. We would appreciate his help, ‘s all. If he finds he can’t hack into the system, he’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Matt raises his eyebrows. “It’s your friend who won’t have to worry no longer. Whatever the problem with his system, my love will fix it for him.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll give you my personal comm line. Leave a message and we’ll set up a meeting.” He raises a hand. “I understand your friend is shy. There will be no repercussions if he decides he doesn’t want to look into it, understand? But I would be really, really grateful for his help. We'll pay him, too. We’re getting a little desperate here.”

“Understood.” Matt solemnly nods. “I will speak to him tonight.”

“Thank you,” Kylo says, relieved. “Now, where were we?”


	8. Chapter 8

Hux looks at his schedule, checks the time, looks again. Nothing. There’s nothing there. Either Il’Yask has made a mistake—impossible—or Hux is looking at his first free afternoon since they’ve arrived at Cloud City. He frowns. When was the last time he’s had a whole afternoon all to himself? Not on board the Finalizer, certainly not on Starkiller. What to do with the unexpected time on his hands?

He looks over at his desk. Of course there’s stuff to be done, there always is. It’s mainly routine things, though—reports to be read, meetings to prepare, budgets and strategies to revise. But try as he might, he can’t think of anything in the small pile that calls for his immediate attention.

Ren has stormed off in a foul mood earlier, to his gym, most likely. Hux hopes for the sake of Ren’s mysterious training partner that he has scheduled his time otherwise or else he’ll be on the receiving end of one of Ren’s infamous temper tantrums. Which is no fun. Hux hasn’t met the man but Ren seems to genuinely enjoy working out with him and does so on a regular basis, as far as Hux can tell. Ren’s certainly muscled up some more and his shirts have begun to strain across his wide chest. His new shirts. Not the old rags he’s been wearing back on Starkiller.

Hux swallows. _Don’t go there. Not good. Don’t think about Ren’s chest. Or his shoulders. Do not think about Ren’s thick arms either._

He closes his office door behind him with unnecessary force and walks into his room to stand before his wardrobe, chewing on his lower lip, forcing his thoughts off the road they prefer to take of late.

With a grunt he gets out of his uniform and after a few more moments of thought chooses a pair of black trousers, a dark green shirt and a simple black jacket, studies himself in the mirror when he’s done. It’s not exactly the most casual of outfits but he hasn’t owned an awful lot of civilian clothes in years. Decades. A very long time. Long enough to feel grossly underdressed the moment he sheds the uniform for anything that’s not standard issue. But this will do. He nods at his reflection, grabs a handful of credits and then does the unthinkable.

The General is taking the afternoon off.

During one of their expeditions Il’Yask has mentioned a popular shopping area with an open market where one can buy spices, jewellery, all kinds of handcrafted items from crockery to clothing, whatever one needs and everything in between.

Sounds perfect. That’s where he’s headed.

The hovercab takes him to the main entrance and as soon as Hux steps out of the vehicle to mingle with the stream of shoppers, tourists and whoever feels like drifting, he’s transported back to a time long gone. For a few disconcerting moments he’s a boy of no more than six, seven years, holding on to the hand of his grandfather who is browsing the local farmers market for herbs and seeds. He remembers how small his hand was in his grandfather’s. He also remembers the smile wrinkles around his grandfather’s eyes. Green they were, as green as his own.

Is his grandfather still alive? Technically, he could be. Grandpa Lorcan was a robust, healthy man in his late fifties when Brendol Hux and his family left for Arkanis. Why has he never bothered to find out what became of him? What would Grandpa think if he saw him now?

Hux blinks, shakes his head. What is it with him? Attracted to Ren. Memories of his grandfather. Civilian life is making him grow soft. Yes. Soft.

A stall to his left catches his attention. There’s books. No holo publications but real books. Printed on paper and bound in leather. He can make out some scrolls, too. It’s a siren call he cannot resist and he firmly pushes all unwanted musings into a far corner of his mind where they belong and soon loses himself leafing through volumes on ancient war strategies and works on philosophy, illustrated books on art, scientific papers on all kinds of topics and then some.

He picks up the autobiography of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. He’s fascinated by the man and his visions and has read everything written by him and about him. His copy of Tarkin’s autobiography has burnt along with Starkiller and so he places the volume, a very handsomely bound first edition, into the basket the eager merchant hands him. And who knows, maybe a book called ‘Forget the old ways’ by Denetrius Vidian, a contemporary of Tarkin and self-proclaimed efficiency expert, will provide useful insight into the workings of outdated organisations. He baskets it, too.

Most works have been translated into Basic but one section of the booth is dedicated to original versions. It’s where he finds a small volume with signs of wear along the edges and on the cover. It’s called ‘On Kyber’ and was written by Galen W. Erso. _Interesting_. It’s not exactly been forbidden but Erso’s works are not on any list of recommended study material.

Hux turns to the merchant who looks at him out of amber eyes.

“How much for this?” he asks.

Wrong question. What follows is some fierce haggling, something Hux has hardly ever practiced—a First Order general doesn’t haggle, he issues an order—but as it’s also a battle of will, he doesn’t walk away paying the amount he’s been asked to pay. Civilian life may have softened him in some respects but it certainly has sharpened him in others.

He wanders from one corner of the market to another, buys a pair of gloves, chooses from a selection of tea blends and ends up spending a ridiculous amount of credits on a straight razor and a luxurious shaving brush. The shaving kit that’s been provided by the hotel is of a decent enough quality but it’s not what he’s used to. Hux doesn’t indulge in much but nothing makes him ready to seize the day and its oncoming challenges like a good, close shave.

When he turns to follow the smell of food—his rumbling stomach leading the way—he is almost run over by a tall, lanky human male hurrying past. Their collision causes the other to drop his bag, spilling its contents on the floor.

“Oh no,” he cries with such dismay in his voice that Hux forgets about his momentary indignation and instead crouches to help pick up the scattered purchases, snatches a bundle of reddish wire and a bunch of colourful cords out of harm’s way and puts them back into the shopping bag while the other man crawls after what looks like a handful of beads.

“Here,” he says and hands the bag over to its owner. “I think that’s all.”

“Thank you,” the man mumbles and drops the recovered beads into the bag, averting his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry.”

They stand and Hux takes a closer look. The man is about his height and very thin with almost shoulder-length hair of the same unusual shade as Hux’ own. It’s what catches his interest. There’s a wide variety of beings wandering around, all shapes and colours, humans, near-humans, humanoids, insectoid, you name it. But this particular shade of red is uncommon. Then there’s his eyes. They’re blue and red-rimmed and obviously not organic. _Fascinating_.

“Will you join me for a bite?” he asks out of a whim.

The other’s eyes whir open and close, open and close. He looks nervous, ready to bolt.

“Or something to drink. To make up for the, uh, inconvenience of having to crawl around.”

Still no reaction. But no bolting, either.

“Please?” Hux isn’t sure why he’s so intent on making this nervous creature’s acquaintance. “I’m new here and I hardly know anyone. We’re in a public place, too,” he adds.

“That’s right,” the other man says and relaxes by a tiny fraction. “Public.”

“Lots of people around,” Hux agrees. “Come on, a drink and a bite among redheads, yes?”

He feels silly saying it but the other man loses most of his haunted expression and the ghost of a smile flickers across his face.

“That’s right,” he says again. “Redheads.”

Hux shifts his shopping bags to his left hand and holds out his right.

“I’m Lorcan,” he says, following a spur of the moment. It’s not precisely wrong. It’s the name his mother gave him, naming him after her own father, Grandpa Lorcan, before he was officially adopted by Brendol Hux and named Armitage.

The other man eyes his hand and after a moment of consideration, takes it. His handshake is not as limp as Hux has expected.

“Techie,” he introduces himself. “They call me Techie.”

His hand is soft and very white. Hux’ own skin tone is pale, too, but Techie appears to be made of something fragile and delicate and Hux briefly wonders if he’s entirely human.

He clears his throat. “Can you recommend anything in particular?” he asks.

Techie cocks his head, ponders the question.

“Do you eat meat or are you more a vegetable kind of person?”

“Meat. Definitely. I could murder a steak right now.”

That makes Techie smile. “ _Ly’etha’s_ then,” he suggests. “Their main store is on level 163 but they have a food stall here, too. They have great nerfsteak sandwiches and their berbersian crab salad is to die for.” The intonation of the last statement goes up, as if he’s asking for permission he half expects to be denied.

“Sounds good,” Hux says. “Let’s have something at _Ly’etha’s_.”

He follows Techie who weaves through the crowd with the nervous agility of a very small animal wary of its surroundings, looking over his shoulder now and then to make sure Hux is still with him.

They arrive at _Ly’etha’s_ and join the line of beings waiting their turn. Hux follows Techie’s recommendation and gets a nerfsteak sandwich, medium, along with a pint of spice beer. Techie chooses a nerfsteak salad and a beverage of a green so very bright that Hux doesn’t bother asking. It looks like something Ren might like.

The small seating area around _Ly’etha’s_ is packed and just as they resign to join a smallish group at one of the bistro tables, a table for two becomes available in a corner overlooking some of the Royal Park. With the speed of a small animal—again—Techie secures the table for them.

They eat mostly in silence, partly because Hux is really hungry and partly because he doesn’t really know what to talk about with this strange man he’s bumped into. Techie is either painfully shy or painfully slow. Hux hasn't made his mind up about that yet. He remarks on the quality of the food which is very good indeed but Techie doesn’t reply, gives Hux a few nervous smiles instead as if he expects to be made fun of any moment.

“So,” Hux says when the last crumb of his sandwich has disappeared. “What you intend to do with all those beads and wires you bought?”

For a moment it seems as if Techie wants to shrink into himself but then he raises his chin, as if in defiance.

“I’m making things.”

“What things?” Hux encourages.

“Pretty things. I make bracelets and decorations, flowers and little trees, you know. We can’t have real flowers where we live but my love, he likes flowers because where he comes from there are none and so I make some for him. And little figurines, too, because they make him laugh and he sometimes puts them into his pocket and takes them to work with him because they bring him luck, he says.” He does eventually shrink into himself, speaking faster and faster and mumbles the last few words so Hux is having difficulties following him.

“But that’s nice, to make things that are pretty,” he carefully says. Not that he feels the need for pretty but he understands the need to create something, be it pretty things or a functioning administration. In the end, it’s the same process: use whatever talents you’ve been given to create something that has an impact. And if Techie’s wire-and-bead creations bring his lover joy, then it’s a job well done. And that, Hux can relate to.

“You really think so?” It sounds dubious.

“Of course I think so. That’s what you do for a living? Making bracelets and figurines?”

Techie huffs. “Of course not. It’s what I do in my free time.”

Not slow after all. “So what do you do then?”

“I’m a system administrator,” Techie says dismissively and Hux’ ears prick up. Not only not slow but catapulted in the interesting range.

“Say again?”

“System administrator,” Techie repeats. “I look into faulty computer systems and I reprogram them where necessary. I fix errors in existing systems, I update them manually where automatic updates are not or no longer possible, and I debug and cleanse infected applications.”

“That’s interesting,” Hux says, careful not to sound too excited. “And do you work for one of the corporations around here?”

“I’m a freelancer, mostly. I only do temp work for the corporations.”

“Why is that?”

Techie shrugs. “I don’t have the certificates they want their employers to have. Also, I don’t feel comfortable in corporate surroundings.” He hangs his head. “I can’t—too many… people.” He all but whispers the last word.

“I see.” Hux taps his middle finger against his pint glass, takes a swig. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Techie says, careful.

“I have a database problem that I can’t fix by myself. It’s not something I want to advertise because—well, I have my reasons. It’s nothing illegal,” he hastily adds when he sees Techie’s eyes whir open and close, as if he’s frightened. “It’s sensitive material that’s locked in the system, confidential information that may or may not influence the outcome of the, uh, job I’ve taken on. My partner and I have been making enquiries but have achieved exactly nothing. And now I’m wondering whether you’d be willing to take a look at the thing.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

Hux shrugs a shoulder. “Because I think that someone who makes pretty things out of beads and wire for his partner is someone who just may possess the level of creativity needed to solve my problem.”

Their eyes meet. This time, Techie does not look away. Instead, he purses his lips.

“It’s nothing illegal, you say?”

“I give you my word. That probably means nothing to you because we've only just met—”

“It does,” Techie interrupts him.

“Oh?”

“You helped me pick up my stuff even though it was me who ran into you. And you ate with me. In public.”

Hux doesn’t know what to say to that, leans back in his chair and looks at Techie. Really looks at the man.  

Very pale skin. Shoulder-length hair in desperate need of water and shampoo. Clothes and shoes that look like hand-me-downs. His blue eyes, mech or bionic, red-rimmed. Or is that rust from cheap replacement surgery? What bothers him most of all is the crude tattoo on his forehead that says ‘male’. It’s obviously nothing he’s had done voluntarily and Hux is certain tattoo and eyes somehow belong together, and not in a good way. Small wonder Techie is so jumpy. And is ‘Techie’ his name or just something he does? Like one would call a lowly servant not by a name but by his or her function? Or—a slave?

Strangely, Techie does not fidget under Hux’ scrutiny. He sits very still, eyes fixed on a faraway point. It’s as if he’s used to being judged and found wanting, as if he waits for Hux to withdraw his suggestion.

“Will you help me?”

Techie blinks.

“What?”

“I said,” Hux repeats, “Will you help me?”

“You—uh—”

“No, I have not changed my mind. I believe that you might be the very person I’ve been looking for. Listen,” he shifts in his chair and crosses his legs. “I can tell that the idea of assisting a total stranger makes you nervous.” He holds up a hand when Techie opens his mouth. “It does, and don’t you try to deny it. What if I give you my personal comm line and you discuss this with your partner. He’s welcome to come with you if you decide to look into my problem.”

He pats his pockets for a pen and frowns when he finds none, signals at a passing service droid. “A pen and a notepad,” he says when it arrives at their table. It brings the desired items and, nodding his dismissal at the droid, he writes down his comm signal and that of Il’Yask, too.

“My partner and I are staying at the Grand Bespin. I’m usually rather busy and may not be able to take your call right away but if you leave a message, I will get back to you. The second line is that of Il’Yask, my personal assistant. He coordinates my schedule and always knows where I am and with whom. He will provide everything you will need if you decide to come by. I’ll alert him so he’ll recognise you when you get in touch. Oh, and just so we’re perfectly clear,” he adds when he slides his contact information across the table. “I’m not asking for a favour. You will get paid so make sure to tell Il’Yask how much you charge for your consulting services. He’ll prepare the necessary paperwork. Agreed?”

He can tell by the look on Techie’s face that it’s not what he has expected.

“Are you all right with that?”

“I, uh—” Techie looks at the piece of paper, picks it up with hands that are not quite steady and pockets it with exaggerated care, almost as if it contains the key to the system he’s supposed to fix. He clears his throat. “I am. Thank you, Lorcan. I will speak about this with Matt. You will hear from me.”

“I hope so.” Hux uncrosses his legs. “I really do. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For joining me, and for keeping me company. And for your willingness to think about my proposal.”

“You’re welcome,” Techie says and sits up a bit straighter.

When they say their good-byes a little while later, Techie’s lost his haunted expression, looks cautiously hopeful when he shakes Hux’ hand, a shy young man, yes, but he no longer resembles a wary little animal.

Hux looks after him as he disappears in the crowd, then picks up his bags and heads for the main exit.

He can’t wait to share this with Ren.


	9. Chapter 9

Kylo is practising his swordplay. With his lightsabre. In the living room section of the hotel suite. Hux would get a coronary if he saw him but Hux isn’t here right now.

Lunge, parry, thrust. Thrust. Swing. Spin.

Where in the name of all that’s holy—lunge—is bloody Hux anyway? Il’Yask doesn’t answer his comm link either so that probably means they’re off to inspect another factory that’s not generating the required returns. How many inefficient places are here?

Parry. Thrust. Thrust.

He’s dying to tell Hux about the conversation with Matt and that Matt’s partner—spin—may be able to help with their database problem. There was not a hint of doubt in Matt’s voice that this love of his is able to fix everything. How his eyes lit up when he said his name!

Kylo does one more spin, then switches the blade off and flops down on the couch, activates the holo projector and flips through the channels. He leaves a news channel on but neither watches nor listens, stares at and through the images flickering before him. ‘My love, he knows everything,’ or so Matt said and something zips through Kylo as he thinks of it. It’s not precisely envy. Envy is an ugly word and has an underlying feel of jealousy, as if Kylo is displeased with Matt having someone he loves. That’s not true because Kylo is happy for him. Although Matt doesn’t come off weak or in need of protection, he doesn’t give the impression that life has coddled him thus far and the waves Kylo has picked up from Matt confirm as much.

And yet…

What does it feel like, to have somebody by your side? Somebody you trust so unconditionally? Somebody who means the world to you?

Kylo has come to trust Hux, but is it really safe to trust him? As in, with his life? Hux doesn’t radiate dishonesty but then, he doesn’t radiate much above the most superficial of levels.

He gives his lightsabre hilt a Force-push, makes it spin on the shiny surface of the table.

How come Hux can block Kylo from his mind? For it has to be blocking; Kylo has no other explanation for the phenomenon. Just—does he do it intentionally? Or did he at some point in his life have a block implanted? To protect him, a high-ranking First Order officer, from enemy mind-probing? Or is Hux… Kylo sits bolt upright as a new and outrageous idea enters his brain. Could Hux be a dormant Force user? Kylo knows for sure Hux’ midichlorian count is below average, knows it because Snoke once made a sneering remark about Hux being Force-mute.

But if Hux truly is Force-mute, what’s this presence that’s constantly hovering in Kylo’s mind? It has to do with Hux, Kylo is certain of it. He hasn’t heard the voice again, this Hux-non-Hux voice he heard when he was unconscious, but he has no doubt it’s Hux he feels in his mind. He’s tried to approach the presence during meditation, has tried to establish contact on a non-corporal level but so far, it’s always danced out of his reach.

Approaching footsteps yank him out of his musings and he snaps back into the here and now. He hasn’t sensed anybody approach their hotel suite, hasn’t heard the doors slide open and— _whoa_. He stares. It’s Hux, and he looks…

Fucking hot.

His long legs are encased in simple black trousers and he’s wearing a dark green shirt that brings out the green of his eyes. He’s carrying a dark jacket over one arm and two bags dangle from his hand. He looks very tall, very slim and absolutely stunning, and Kylo reaches for one of the cushions, pulls it into his lap and folds his hands over it, trying to make it look as if he’s lazing about comfortably when in truth, he is anything but comfortable.

“Oh hey, Ren,” Hux says when he sees him, places his bags on the ground and the jacket on one of the high-backed chairs around the dining table, comes over to where Kylo is sitting and lowers himself into one of the armchairs. “I didn’t expect to find you at home.”

“I didn’t expect to find you gone,” Kylo retorts, and it comes out a little waspishly.

Hux looks at him with raised eyebrows. Kylo is very familiar with that particular expression and it used to set off his inner tantrum mode, back on board the _Finalizer_ and on Starkiller, when all was as it should be. Used to should be. Whatever. In any case, today it makes his blood pressure rise in a very different manner and he’s glad he’s thought of pulling the cushion into his lap.

“I was not aware I was expected to hand in a leave of absence with you,” Hux says with maddening calm, unaware of what’s going on in Kylo’s mind. “But if you absolutely must know, then please be informed that I have decided to take a few hours off.”

“You—what?” Kylo cannot for the life of him imagine Hux taking personal time off. “What did you do?”

“I ran a few errands. And think I may have found a solution for our database problem today.”

“Oh yeah?” Kylo leans back. “I spoke to somebody who may be able to help us, too.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. My training partner—remember I told you about him? Matt, that’s his name, well Matt thinks his lover should look into our problem. But you go first,” he adds generously.

“I had a late lunch with a freelance system administrator who’s specialised in debugging faulty systems, updating them and so forth. He’s told me a bit about the work he’s done so far and I asked him to step by if he’s interested. Thing is, he seems awfully shy.” Hux taps a finger against his lower lip. “No, not shy. Terrified, yes, that’s it. Scared of his own shadow. Constantly checking over his shoulder for something horrible to befall him. I tossed him a few bits about our database issue and told him if he feels more comfortable about looking into the matter with his partner by his side he’s welcome to do so.”

“You think he’s afraid because he usually works on things of a, mhm, maybe more clandestine nature?”

“You think he works for one of the crime lords?” Hux frowns. “I don’t think so. But I do think he has a rather unpleasant background.”

Something about all of this sounds strangely familiar. An idea shoots through Kylo’s mind.

“Does he happen to be ginger?”

“Yes, his hair is indeed ginger, but a paler shade than mine. A little on the yellowish side maybe. What does this have to do with anything? Oh, and Ren,” he adds, sounding mildly curious, “why are you hugging that cushion? Are you cold?”

“What? Oh.” Kylo does a quick internal check and removes the cushion from his lap. But he crosses his legs, just to be safe, and tries to make it look casual. “I was thinking.”

“And you need a cushion for that? Maybe you should re-think your meditation technique if you need a cushion to focus.”

 _Smug bastard._ Kylo looks at him and thinks how much he’d like to fuck that smirk off Hux’ face. Fuck him into that neatly made bed of his until the sheets and the man himself are a mess. He wouldn’t be so smug then, would he. Wide open and begging for more, yeah, that’s more like it.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Ren?”

 _Fuck_. The expression on Hux’ face is near impossible to read but his eyes, oh stars, his eyes. So kriffing green. Like something he wants to fall into and lose himself in. Green as the grass on—

“Ren?”

He blinks. “I, uh—” he stammers, clears his throat and continues in a steady voice, “Did you catch his name?”

“He introduced himself as Techie but I don’t think that’s his actual name. He’s got a rather crude tattoo here,” Hux indicates a spot above his left eyebrow, “that says ‘male’. Made me think of a slave tattoo.”

“‘Techie’, huh.” Wasn’t that what Matt had called his partner? _He’s brilliant, my techie. There’s not a single system he can’t hack into._ “You know what? I think we’re talking about the same person.”

“Sure?”

“Just an idea. But what Matt said about his lover and what you’ve just told me, it does sound like your lunch buddy is him. Matt’s lover, I mean. Matt said he’s shy and I know he’s a ginger.”

“You know what? I think you may be right.” Hux taps a finger against his lip again.

He really should stop doing that because he has very pretty lips.

“If I’m not entirely mistaken,” he continues, “I think he said his partner’s name was Matt. Huh. Well, that narrows it down to one person who may or may not help us. I guess all we can do now is wait for him to get in touch.”

“Which he may or may not do.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain he will. I made it perfectly clear that he’s not expected to do anything illegal and I also gave him my personal comm line and Il’Yask’s contact details so he can prepare a contract for him, stating his fees and such.”

“You gave him your personal details?”

“Whyever not?”

“You never give away any personal data.”

“Because up to now, I could always be reached through the usual lines within the Order,” Hux points out. “Besides, I didn’t exactly provide him with sensitive data.”

“Like your favourite sexual position, you mean?” The moment it’s out he’s sorry he’s said it. Just because they’ve reached an almost companionable understanding doesn’t mean he can—

“On top,” Hux says without hesitating. “I hate to feel crowded and I loathe being folded in half with my knees behind my ears. If I’m not the one doing the actual fucking, then I like to ride my partner. That way I get to have a cock up my arse but I’m still in control. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

Kylo feels his face fall. Actually feels his facial muscles slacken. He must have heard wrong. It’s got to be his out-of-control imagination playing dirty tricks on him. No way Hux would say anything like that.

“What, Ren?” Hux looks at him with mock surprise. “Just because you took a vow of chastity doesn’t mean I did, too.”

“I never took a vow of chastity,” Kylo bristles. “What makes you say that?”

“Isn’t there something like a no attachment rule for Jedi?”

“I’m not a Jedi.”

“But you were first trained by your uncle Skywalker who is.”

“He’s the last living Jedi master, yes.”

“That you know of.”

“I’m certain of it. I’d feel it in the Force if there were others.”

“How about the Sith, then?”

“The Dark Side doesn’t forbid attachments.”

“But it discourages its followers to form attachments with those ‘who lack the ability to understand what it means to be in the grip of the Force’. Isn’t that what Darth Plagueis used to say?”

“How do you know all that?”

“I like to read,” Hux replies and shrugs one shoulder. “And I’m interested in history. There’s a lot to be learnt from the past if you know where to look and how to interpret data.”

“And you’re interested in the Jedi and the Sith? Why?”

“They once were the most powerful force in the known universe, and now the Jedi are all but extinguished. Those who survived the infamous Order 66 are scattered all over the galaxies and are no longer considered a threat. As for the Sith, well,” another one-shouldered shrug, “they were never actively hunted down but as far as I know, no new power cell is about to emerge. And we both know what Snoke thinks of the Sith and of Lord Vader in particular.”

“‘Lord’ Vader?” Kylo echoes. “You never called him that before Snoke.”

“Because I was tired of hearing Snoke’s hate speeches. Vader was a great man in his own right but trust the Supreme Leader,” his disdain for his former superior is almost palpable, “to not understand a kriffing thing about the complexity of the human mind.”

“You really think so? Darth Vader being a great man?”

“I do, yes. Vader did some horrible things, and some of the things he did went horribly wrong which made them even worse, but he was a powerful Force user who in the end rose above all and did what he thought needed doing. That takes a lot of inner strength and only a narrow-minded fool would say otherwise. You don’t have to personally approve of somebody else’s choice to acknowledge strength and besides, it would be ignorant to not look and learn.”

Kylo blinks. There’s new facets of Hux to be found with each day that passes. 

“So what errands did you run?” he asks in an attempt to regain control over his reeling mind.

“I went to Level 5 to do some shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yes, Ren, shopping. You know, choose something you like and pay for it.”

“I know—” Kylo stops himself just in time. “What did you buy?” he asks instead.

“A pair of gloves, some tea, a shaving kit and some books.”

“What’s wrong with the shaving kits we have here?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them. But there’s better quality to be had and that’s what I went for. Unlike you, I have quite a few bristles to manage. Last thing I want to see on my face is scruff.”

Oh, but it is something Kylo would like to see. Back on the Falcon, when Hux couldn’t indulge in the close shaves he likes, Kylo caught a glimpse of the scruff Hux has just mentioned and it looked spectacular. Hot as fuck. Only, back then he didn’t realise it was hot. Or rather: refused to realise it. What would Hux look like after, say, one week of not shaving? And: how would his scruff feel, scratching along the inside of Kylo’s thighs?

_Oh for kriff’s sake, don’t go there. Not even close. Just… don’t._

He abruptly ends their conversation and says there’s stuff to be looked into in Port Town and he better get going. Which is only a half-lie because there’s always stuff to be looked into in Port Town, and it’s time to check in on the observation team he’s placed there.

And so he changes into his fighting leathers, dons tunic, boots and gloves, grabs his helmet and lightsabre and all but runs from the hotel suite. Away from Hux’ long legs, green eyes and the knowledge that Hux likes to ride his sex partners.

******

A few days later the concierge droid calls their suite to announce two visitors for the General and the Enforcer and Kylo walks up to the lift to welcome them. Hux is still in his room, probably making sure each strand of hair is exactly where it should be.

The lift doors slide open and out steps Matt with a very slim and very pale human male in tow who takes one look at Kylo and all but shrinks into Matt’s broad back.

“Hello K,” Matt says and pushes his glasses up his nose, a nervous gesture Kylo is not used to seeing on him. “Thanks for organising the hovercab for us. That wasn’t necessary but thanks anyway.”

“Hi Matt. Glad you liked the cab.” Kylo has no idea what Il’Yask has organised for the two of them. “I guess it’s I who has to thank you for taking the time to drop by.”

This is a bit awkward. Usually there are no formalities between Matt and him and no awkwardness either and for a moment, Kylo is uncertain how to proceed. But whatever has happened since he’s left his mother’s radius, she has taught him proper manners and so he smiles his most winning smile at Matt’s partner and extends his hand.

“I believe we haven’t met yet. I’m No’One but Matt calls me K and you’re welcome to call me that, too.”

The man emerges from behind Matt’s back and hesitatingly accepts Kylo’s hand. His hand is cold and clammy and he pulls it back immediately.

“My name is Techie,” he mumbles, eyes fixed to the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” Kylo says again and gestures for them to follow him. “It’s much appreciated. Please, this way.”

Hux chooses this moment to exit his room and Kylo is torn between relief and a flash of insta-lust. He calls himself to attention immediately. Now is not the time to stare and harbour inappropriate thoughts but hot pfassk, Hux looks amazing. Pale green shirt, slim grey trousers, classic black shoes. The shirt collar is open and reveals a pale throat and for a fleeting, insane moment Kylo wonders what would happen if he kissed that little triangle, right now and before Matt and Techie to see.

Their eyes meet and Kylo thinks he sees Hux’ pupils dilate. He blinks and it’s gone, and Hux shifts his gaze away from him and to their visitors.

“Hello Techie,” he says. “I am so grateful you’ve taken the time to come here. The stubborn nerfkriffer over there is driving me insane. No, I’m not talking about you, K. No need to glare. For once, I’m not complaining about you.”

_What the—?_

Then something amazing happens. There’s a noise coming from behind him that sounds almost like a giggle. He turns around and sees Matt’s pale shadow separate himself from Matt’s side and walk up to Hux, shyly holding out his hand.

“Hello Lorcan,” he says, blushing furiously. “I hope you don't mind that I brought Matt with me.”

Hux clasps his hand with both of his. “Not at all. He’s most welcome here.”

Techie beams, really and truly beams at Hux who winks— _what the actual, kriffing fuck?_ —and lets go of Techie’s hand to turn and look at Matt.

“Matt.” He gives him a brief nod. “Good of you to make time to bring Techie safely to us. There’s still a few unsavoury parts around here, sadly, and two pairs of eyes and ears are better than one. Right?”

Matt stands a bit straighter and nods solemnly back at Hux.

“That’s correct, sir. But it’s greatly improved over the last couple of weeks.”

“Pleased to hear it,” Hux says in his usual, clipped speech. “But credit where credit is due and it’s not I who’s to thank for that.”

“But sir, General—” Matt starts but Hux holds up a hand.

“Please call me Lorcan. I believe we can dispense with the formalities between the four of us, yes?”

“Certainly, sir. Lorcan. Sir.” Matt frowns. Probably at himself.

Techie smiles a shy smile at Hux.

“May I see the equipment, please?” he asks.

“Of course. This way.” Hux looks at Kylo and Matt. “We’ll be gone for a while,” he says. “But don’t worry, Matt, we’ll be in my office over there,” he points, “and we’ll leave the door open.”

Matt and Hux exchange another nod—like general to soldier, Kylo thinks—and then Hux disappears with Techie who starts firing off questions the moment they turn their backs on Kylo and Matt.

“Stars, he’s amazing,” Matt breathes when they are out of sight and Kylo snaps his head around to look at his training partner.

“What?”

Matt blinks and shakes his head, as if calling himself back into reality.

“Is that your close-lipped ginger, K?”

“Yep, that’s him. Welcome to my life.”

“But he’s—aren’t you—I mean…”

“Let’s not go there,” Kylo says. “You want anything? Water, juice, caf? Anything to eat?”

“Caf would be nice. And if you have anything small to eat? I went straight from my shift to pick Techie up. I haven’t eaten since eight.”

Kylo looks him over and yes, he’s wearing work overalls.

“You want to shower and borrow some of my clothes?” he offers. “We’re about the same size.”

“Stars, no.” Matt turns bright red, redder than Techie a few minutes ago. “I’m okay with my work clothes and they’re not dirty, either. I didn’t have to crawl around anywhere. Your furniture won’t suffer.”

Kylo snorts. “I don’t care about one or two spots on the furniture. There’s droids for that. I just thought you might want to change into something a little more comfortable.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.”

“All right. Food, then. Come with me.”

The fridge in their kitchenette is well-stocked and Kylo throws a generous plate together while Matt gets the caf maker going.

Soon they sit on the couch, flipping through the holo channels and disposing of the food. Matt relaxes a bit, now that it’s just the two of them, but there’s still something off about him. Sure, this is not their usual habitat, it’s not the gym where they’re both sweaty and groaning under their weights, but still, it’s only Matt and K, right?

“What is it, Matt?” Kylo finally asks when Matt’s eyes have darted over to Hux’ office for the umpteenth time. “Is anything the matter? You don’t have to worry about Techie, you know, the General has no hidden agenda. He really only needs help with a database, is all.”

“That’s what Techie said, too. It’s just that—” Matt breaks off, looks at his plate and shifts his food around with his fork. “It’s just that Techie usually takes a much longer time to open up and I—” he clears his throat and shakes his head. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You are,” Kylo bluntly says. “The General dangled a fat riddle for him to solve right before his nose. Of course a geek would jump at the occasion. And they’re both redheads and I’m sure that alone is enough to bond them. It’s an unusual hair colour, even in a universe that’s so rich in colours and shapes.”

“You think so?”

The hopeful look in Matt’s eyes could be comical if his fear of losing the one he loves weren’t so real.

“I am sure of it,” Kylo says in a firm voice and applies a gentle Force nudge to his words to get the message to sink in. “Believe me, I know nothing of computer systems and databases and I bet the General is just as happy to have found somebody worthy of his attention as Techie is happy to have a new challenge to sink his teeth into.”

Matt visibly relaxes at Kylo’s words, reaches for his plate and chooses a vegetable. He chews on it, probably chews on what Kylo’s just told him, too. Then he swallows, sits up and reaches for his caf.

“You know what? I think you’re right, K. I guess I’m just tired.” He takes a gulp and leans back into the cushions. “Are there any sports channels on this thing?”

 

Later, when Matt has excused himself to use the bathroom, Kylo walks over to Hux’ office to peek inside. What he sees are two ginger heads stuck together before two wide screens across which columns, graphs and images flicker at migraine speed, but neither redhead seems to have any problems with that. Techie’s fingers fly over the keyboard while Hux points first at something on the screen closer to Techie, then at something on the screen closer to himself, rapidly talking to Techie in a dialect that Kylo has never before heard him use.

But that’s not what catches Kylo’s attention. He knows Hux speaks several dialects and languages, has heard him do so at many occasions. Hux always sounds like Hux, no matter which language he chooses to employ: clipped, precise, haughty, commanding. So the dialect is not it.

Kylo has never, ever heard Hux speak in a voice that soft and he’s never heard that lilt before, either. Or so he thinks.

But it’s not precisely true, is it.

He has heard it before, back on Starkiller, has heard it during those hours they’d been left behind to die. _‘Who knows, maybe more’_ , the voice said to him and he’s clung to the feeling that voice had evoked in him ever since, a feeling of warmth and of not being alone after all. He’s known for a while now it was Hux’ voice that night, has known in his heart and in the Force, too. But until now, it's been a vague, somewhat abstract idea hovering in the back of his mind, much like that elusive presence that’s hovering in the Force.

He looks at Hux and Techie and how they stick their heads together, bonding over some geek problem and already utterly comfortable in each other’s company. Hux says something that makes Techie laugh, all shyness gone, and suddenly Kylo’s system is flooded with a jealousy so red-hot that he has to close his eyes and concentrate on taking deep, controlled breaths.

This is getting out of hand.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“That was a very productive afternoon,“ Hux says, satisfied. Matt and Techie have left about half a standard hour ago and he has just finished going through his scribbled notes, having sorted them so they make more sense when he sits down to type up a summary. He yawns and stretches. “Techie is brilliant, no doubt about it.”

“He’s been able to fix the problem, then?” Ren lies stretched out on the couch and fiddles with his datapad. His socks and shoes lie on the floor next to him and Hux frowns at that, but chooses not to comment.

“He’s done far more than that.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed he has. He’s set up a secure comm line just for us to use and has linked it with our main datapads.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if you feel the need to discuss my favourite sex position, or yours, while you are roaming Port Town, you can call me on our secure line and no-one will be able to eavesdrop.”

Ren gives a non-committal grunt but shifts and crosses his legs. Hux grins. No Force needed to pick up the signals Ren’s been sending out of late, unconsciously or on purpose. They resonate in Hux’ mind and body, multiplying his own needs and desires. It’s been stolen glances and seemingly harmless innuendos thus far, but Ren’s reaction to their brief banter on sex positions has taken their game to a new level. Ren’s lust is like a beacon, beckoning for him to come closer and Hux is drawn to it like a Harysian moth is drawn to light.

Stars, but Ren is gorgeous. The loose material of his trousers outlines his massive thighs and the simple black shirt he’s put on emphasises his wide chest and thick arms. He’s in desperate need of a haircut but in all honesty, Hux likes Ren’s hair as it is and longs to run his fingers through the thick, wavy mane. Or maybe grab a fistful and force Ren’s head back as he takes him from behind. But it is true what he’s told Ren earlier; he does like to ride his partners and damn, he’d love to ride this magnificent creature into the mattress. Visions of Ren’s head flung back against the pillows and that powerful body arch up under him flood his mind and he feels his cock harden. With sheer power of will he forces his mind out of his favourite daydream and into reality and looks away from Ren’s lower body and the treacherous bulge that is begging to be rubbed against.

“The City’s main database is up and running,” he continues. “Techie has identified and blocked all users and has given access to only you and me for the time being. He’s run a system check and updated all files by means of importing everything Il’yask has uploaded to my personal datapad. He has reactivated the Baron Administrator’s accounts which was relatively easy because Calrissian’s already given me his access codes. As it would seem,” he walks around the couch and sits down in his favourite armchair, “we are now fully functional again.” 

Ren finally looks up from his datapad.

“So he really is as good as Matt says?”

“Probably better than that. No offence meant, Matt seems a decent enough bloke, but I doubt he sees Techie’s full potential.”

“Don’t tell me he’s smarter than you.”

“Not smarter, no,” Hux says without false modesty. “Different. His understanding of computing systems far exceeds mine—”

“Impossible.”

“—but where strategy, organisation and politics are concerned, his knowledge is basic at best. But his brain is wired in such a fashion that he finds the connectors he needs to—”

“That’s nice,” Ren says, sounding utterly bored. “I’m glad you found yourself a little geek friend.”

“Shut up, Ren. Have you ever heard me bitch about you and your gym buddy?”

“No, but that’s not—well, whatever.” He obviously has a few more things to say on that matter but changes his mind, and Hux is grateful for it. He’s not in the mood to quarrel. “Good to hear Techie’s been able to fix things. Do I need to do anything about my datapad and my comm link?”

“No, we’re all set.”

“Guess that means you’ll bury yourself in the City’s database now, right?”

“Yes and no. I’d dearly love to jump in right away but I’m afraid my schedule for the next days is fully packed and I’ll be lucky if I find time enough to graze the surface. But it’s a huge relief to know the damn thing is up and running and we’ll have all the info we need at our disposal. Which brings me to something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes, Ren, with you. We’re both in charge here, remember?”

“Mhm.”

“I’d like to offer Techie a permanent position with us. Maybe a freelance agreement at first instead of a regular employment contract as he seems to shy away from the idea of being in anybody’s service, so to speak, but I’d like him to be in charge of the City’s main systems. I’ve come to understand there’s a lot of things, crucial things, that are not as they should be and I’d like an independent mind look through things, not one who’s guild-affiliated. I’d also like him to handle our personal equipment. I’ve taken the liberty to have Il’Yask draft an agreement for us to offer him but if you disagree, we’ll find another solution.”

Ren sits up and scratches his head.

“He really is that good?” he asks again.

“He really is that good, yes,” Hux confirms. “Are you all right with that? Do you think Matt would mind?”

“I don’t think so, no. But you might want to give them time to talk it through. Matt had a funny reaction to you and Techie bonding that quickly.”

“Nonsense,” Hux says. “What did he think we were doing in there? I left the office door open not only for Techie’s sake but also because I think Matt has taken on the role as his protector and bodyguard. Is that why you made that remark about me having found a geek friend?”

Ren doesn’t answer and busies himself with the nail of his left ring finger.

“Ren?”

“What was that dialect you spoke?” Ren asks in lieu of an answer.

“What—oh. It’s a form of Basic that’s spoken in the part of Naboo where my mother came from. I’ve not spoken it since—well, since I’ve left that part of my life behind.”

“You’re from Naboo?”

“No, I’m from Arkanis. My mother was from Naboo and her father as well. I spent the first years of my life with them before my father decided to officially adopt me. I had to stop speaking that dialect when I entered the Academy but I guess I’ve never really deleted it from my memory.”

“Can you do that? Delete stuff from your memory?”

“No precisely, not as you would delete a file from a database. It’s more like overwriting a file. The original is still there but weak, like an echo of something long gone.”

“That’s how your brain works?”

“That’s how I’ve trained it to work, yes. If you don’t organise what you store in your mind then it’s well-nigh useless. Unless you have enough time to wade through heaps and piles of unsorted facts. I prefer to have my information right at hand when I need it.”

“A neat freak even in your head, huh.”

“I’m not a neat freak,” Hux says. “I just like things to be organised.”

“Still a neat freak.”

“Whatever, Ren. So, are you all right with the idea of offering a contract to Techie?”

“I am, yes. This City has been a mess for too long and if he’s the man to get the systems up and running again, fine by me. Will you say something in that Naboo dialect?” 

“What? How do you mean?” Hux asks, puzzled.

“Say something. Anything. My grandmother was from Naboo but I don’t think I ever heard that particular form of Basic. I’ve seen holo recordings of most of her public appearances but there’s not a trace of a dialect in her speech.”

“And you want to hear me speak it why? For nostalgic reasons?”

“Please, Hux?”

“Fine. What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell me why it is that you chose to speak it with Techie.”

“Well, he used a couple of words I hadn’t heard in ages and so I asked him where he was from. He was hesitant to speak about his past but then he said he was born on Arkanis and later moved to Naboo. We got to talking and I guess that helped him relax a little more.” 

Slipping into his childhood dialect was a natural and easy thing to do with Techie, but right here, before Ren, Hux suddenly feels silly. He feels even sillier when he notices Ren staring at him as if he’s suddenly grown an extra eye on his forehead. He gets up from his armchair.

“Listen, Ren, this is ridiculous—” he begins but Ren shakes his head.

“Hux, please,” he says. “Tell me why you’ve called yourself Lorcan.”

“It’s my grandfather’s name. My maternal grandfather’s,” Hux explains. “My mother never expected my father to acknowledge me so she named me after her father, Lorcan Dale. That’s what it says on my original birth certificate, too, but when Brendol Hux took me in, he did his best to erase all memories of—Ren, why are you looking at me like that?”

But he knows. Mother of Moons, does he ever. Ren’s eyes have gone very dark, his lips are slightly parted and when Hux’ eyes drop to his crotch, there’s the bulge all right and it’s impressive. Hux feels his body react in kind. His cock hardens and his arse clenches. Without ever having seen Ren naked, Hux knows he’s hung like a Bantha, as the old saying goes, because neither those loose lounge pants he likes to wear in the privacy of their suite nor his underpants in which he wanders about before he gets dressed or before he goes to sleep hide much of his physical attributes. 

Hux has fantasised about taking that massive cock, has thought about sucking him off, too. How much of it would he be able to swallow before his gag reflex sets in? Or would Ren…would he let Hux fuck him? Would he allow Hux to sink into his tight, hot hole?

He swallows.

“Say your name, Hux. Your real name. Not the pompous one.”

Ren has got up from the couch and stands at arm’s length from Hux.

“Lorrrcan”, Hux says with an exaggerated burr.

“Again.” It comes out hoarsely.

“You’re bloody gorrrgeous, Rrren,” Hux says instead, and that’s it.

Ren’s lips are on his the next moment and they’re soft and firm and delicious, and Hux’ hands are in Ren’s hair and it’s soft and thick and luxurious. It's exactly as he's imagined, and so much better. Ren’s tongue demands entrance into Hux’ mouth and Hux allows it but it soon becomes clear that no matter whether or not Ren has taken a vow of chastity, he doesn’t have much experience when it comes to kissing, and so Hux takes over, sucks on Ren’s tongue and persuades him to follow his lead. And while Ren may not be too experienced, he sure is a quick learner, and so they stand there in the middle of their living room section and kiss, and kiss some more until they’re both breathless and Hux is dangerously close to coming in his trousers.

He lets go of Ren’s hair and slides his hands under Ren’s shirt instead, feels the scar tissue on Ren’s broad back, new and old, feels his hard muscles shift under his hands. Without much ado, Ren grabs Hux’ arse and lifts him up some, and Hux wraps his legs around Ren’s hips and lets himself be carried into his bedroom, with Ren’s lips glued to the hollow of his throat. Ren’s eyes are closed but he doesn’t bump into anything, probably uses the Force to navigate. Not that Hux cares much. He’ll have Ren in his bed, that’s all he cares about.

Inside his bedroom, he unwraps his legs and slides down. Doesn’t slide down much because they’re about the same height but he slides as much as he can, relishing the feeling of Ren’s hard body against his own. Ren immediately cups his face with his big hands and resumes kissing him and there’s so much hunger and desire in his kisses that Hux has to pull back and look at him. Ren’s eyes are completely unguarded as they meet his, and the sheer longing he sees make his heart skip a beat. Literally skip a beat, and he gasps.

“Ren, I had no idea—” he begins but Ren silences him with another kiss.

“I’ve wanted you forever,” he whispers against Hux’ lips. “You and your perfectly pressed uniforms and your arrogance. General.” He lightly bites Hux’ lower lip. “All haughty and prissy, but there’s your red hair and your pretty mouth and all I wanted…all I ever wanted…” His voice falters as if his courage is leaving him but Hux knows pretty well what Ren wants because he wants it, too.

“Off with your shirt,” he commands and Ren obeys, pulls his shirt over his head and Hux finally, oh finally, gets to put his hands on Ren’s naked skin. He has touched him before, back on the _Falcon_ when Ren was injured and near helpless but that didn’t count. This is what he’s wanted and now he touches to his heart’s content, lets his hands slide over the wide planes of Ren’s chest, feels the pectorals, curls his hands around Ren’s thick arms. Ren flexes his biceps.

“Show-off,” Hux softly chides him and Ren chuckles. The chuckle dies in his throat, turns into a gasp when Hux bends his head and licks across one of Ren’s nipples, teases the flat disc into attention with tongue and teeth. But what he truly wants lies farther down and so he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Ren’s trousers and underpants and sinks down to his knees, pulling trousers and pants down with him. Ren steps out of one trouser leg, then the other and stands before Hux, naked and without the least sign of discomfort. He is clearly comfortable in his own skin and stars above, Ren’s body is the most beautiful thing Hux has ever laid his eyes on. He’s all hard muscle and sinews underneath that smooth skin but there’s just enough body fat to soften his hard edges. Not fat as in, fat, but rather an additional layer that prevents Ren from looking like some exaggerated, hulking killer hybrid. 

And his cock…Hux feels his mouth water in anticipation. Ren’s cock is as big as he’s thought it would be, fully erect, beautifully veined and jutting out proudly. It’s too tempting to resist and so Hux leans forward and licks along the rigid shaft in one long upward stroke. Ren gives a low groan and balls his fists by his side, and Hux sucks the tip between his lips. Ren’s hips rock forward and Hux places his hands on both sides to control him. No way he can swallow this huge cock without adjusting to it first, not without loosening his throat and getting used to the sheer size of it. He swirls his tongue around the glans and sucks some more into his mouth, flattens his tongue on the intake and zigzagging on the retreat, tracing the vein on the underside that grows more prominent as Ren’s arousal increases.

“That’s right, General.” Ren places one hand under Hux’ chin and caresses his jaw with his thumb. “That’s exactly where I wanted your pretty lips.” He buries his other hand in Hux’ hair. “And that’s what I wanted to do with your hair.” 

He starts rocking his hips forward in slow motions, burying himself deeper in Hux’ mouth with each thrust and Hux hums his approval, looks up into Ren’s face. Ren is watching him through half-closed eyes and when he sees Hux looking up at him, he tightens his grip in his hair.

“Do you like having my cock shoved down your throat?”

There is no other way for Hux to answer but to hum once more and swallow around Ren’s cock. That earns him a low, throaty moan and he chuckles, the vibrations of his chuckle making Ren fling his head back, exposing his throat. Hux is going to lick Ren’s throat too, later, but for now he concentrates on what’s in his mouth, breathing through his nose, and continues his licking and zigzagging game until he feels Ren stiffen and pull back. 

“Don’t,” he pants and staggers back, a bit wobbly in the knees. “I don’t want to come just yet.”

Hux wipes his mouth and sits back on his heels. “Why not?”

“You’re still dressed and on your knees.”

“And?”

“That’s not how I want to come.”

“Why not? Didn’t you say that’s where you wanted my lips?”

“I know what I said. But not like—” he makes a vague gesture. “Like this.” He rakes a hand through his hair, clears his throat. “Also, I want to come with you inside me.”

“What?” 

Hux thinks he’s heard wrong but Ren sits down on the bed and repeats, “I want to come with you inside me, Hux.”

Hux gets up so quickly that his knees creak in protest, walks up to Ren and puts a finger under his chin, forces his face up.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Ren nods and looks up at him out of his dark, dark eyes. Hux bends down and kisses his lips, softly, caressingly.

“Stay where you are,” he says. “There’s something I need to get.”

He run-stumbles over to his bathroom, grabs the bottle with the lotion, _no, not this one, the other one_ , and rushes back into his bedroom where Ren is still sitting on the edge of Hux’ bed.

“This will do,” Hux says and holds up the bottle. “I don’t have any lube. I, uh, I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”

“There’s always spit,” Ren says and Hux makes a face.

“In a field situation, perhaps, where time is of the essence. But we’re not in the field, are we.”

“Time _is_ of the essence.” Ren holds out a hand. “Come here, Hux. Lorcan. Please.”

Hux takes Ren’s hand, lets himself be pulled closer and Ren brackets his waist with his hands.

“So slim,” he murmurs. “So exquisite.” He makes it sound as if Hux is something to be treasured, the biggest prize to be won.

“I’ve always been on the skinny side,” Hux says, suddenly self-conscious. “‘Thin as paper’, my father used to say.”

“What a load of crap. Let me see for myself.”

Hux reaches for the top button of his shirt but Ren stands up and lightly swats his hand away.

“No. Let me, please.”

He fumbles with the first buttons with fingers that are not quite steady but gets the hang of it pretty quickly. He pushes the shirt off Hux’ shoulders and it lands on the floor with a whisper. Next comes the undershirt, and Hux obediently raises his arms so Ren can pull it over his head. He does so with exaggerated care and Hux realises that not one of his previous sexual encounters (and there have been a few, no matter what his public persona has led others to believe) has prepared him for the gentle patience with which Kylo Ren of all people peels away layer after layer of Hux’ armour, murmuring words of appreciation and praise and kissing his way from one shoulder to the other, along his collarbones, pressing featherlight kisses on his throat and the pulsing hollow beneath it. When the last piece of clothing has fallen to the floor, Ren sits back down on the bed and lets his eyes travel along Hux’ body.

“I don’t see anything that’s thin as paper,” he states. “Lean’s the word I’d use. Lean and mean and hot as pfassk.” He lowers his gaze. “Everything’s in perfect proportion.” He leans forward and nuzzles the base of Hux’ cock, then laughs softly. “And bright red down here. Better than I thought.”

He slides to the middle of the bed and gets on his hands and knees.

“Hurry,” he says. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Hux looks at him, naked and waiting, and does as he’s told. He kneels behind Ren and runs his hands lightly across his well-rounded, taut arse-cheeks, traces the vertebrae all the way up to the nape of his neck. Ren hangs his head and shudders. He’s beautiful like that, like some wild beast only barely tamed. Hux gently parts his buttocks, runs a finger down the crack, taps lightly against the hole that clenches under his finger. Ren hisses.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Hux asks while he still has some control over his body.

“Mhm.”

He reaches for the bottle, cracks the lid open and squeezes a generous amount of lotion on his palm, slicks his fingers up and begins to gently circle Ren’s opening. 

“That feels strange,” Ren chokes out, confirming Hux’ suspicion that while Ren may not be a total stranger to the act, he’s not had an awful lot of practice and so he goes extra slow, eases only the tip of a finger into the tight, hot hole. Ren makes an undefinable sound.

“Good or bad?” 

“Good. I want you...I want you to do this.”

Ren spreads his legs a bit wider. Hux' cock is so filled with blood that he’s beginning to hurt, but this is not about him. He will not die of a swollen dick but if he doesn’t make this good for Ren, neither of them is going to have much fun, and so he continues to stretch and prepare Ren slowly, gently, taking his time until Ren relaxes enough for him to push one finger in, withdraw, push it back in. He continues this and when Ren starts pushing back, he eases a second finger in, searches and finds the nub that he knows will give Ren pleasure. And—

“Fu-uuck,” Ren groans. “Again.”

And Hux obliges, and then he gets into position, coats his cock with lotion, with lots of lotion, and positions himself at Ren’s entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asks again. “We don’t have to do it like that.”

Ren looks over his shoulder, his face a mixture of arousal and doubt. But there’s trust in his eyes, too, and he nods, as if to himself.

“I want this. Please.”

And so Hux pushes inside, waits when he’s halfway in for Ren stiffens and breathes harder. Hux knows it hurts, it always does, but he feels Ren hurt, too, and so he waits. His cock screams at him to snap his hips forward, to go ahead with the fucking but Hux tells it to shut up and wait for a few more heartbeats. Then the powerful body before him gives, and he slides all the way in. The physical sensation alone is overwhelming but there is…something else. 

The moment Hux is seated deep within Ren, something inside him yields, much like Ren’s body just has, and he is in Ren. Not as in balls-deep, to-the-hilt-buried in Ren’s body, but _in_ him. It’s as if their roles were reversed and he’s the one with a cock up his arse. He feels what Ren must be feeling, feels the burn and the discomfort at being stretched so wide and being filled so completely and dear Mother of Moons it hurts, it hurts, but it also feels so kriffing good. It feels like something he’s wanted all of his life, as if a missing link has just clicked into place. This is how it’s supposed to be and he feels utterly complete.

He becomes utterly still. _What the—_

Ren makes a sound that Hux has never before heard him make, has never heard from any creature. It’s a sound that comes from deep within Ren, wrests from his chest and forces its way through his throat. It’s a scream. No, a howl. A sobbing, near desperate groan and Ren sinks down on his elbows, his head drops between his hands, and still he groans. Hux freezes. His prick starts deflating. Maybe it would be better— 

_::No. Stay in me. Fuck, you feel so good.::_

It’s Ren’s voice but Hux hasn’t heard Ren actually speak. The words have reached his brain without taking the usual detour through his ears. Something reaches for him on a level he can’t name and he blindly reaches for it in return. It’s like hand to wrist and the instant they connect, he recognises it. It’s the presence he’s felt in a far away corner of his dreams. He has first felt it on board the _Falcon_ when it eased away his nightmares but it’s returned again and again, hovering in the background, reaching out to him but he’s never been able to establish contact.

_::I can feel you, Hux. I knew it.::_

“What is this?”

Despite his confusion, he feels his cock harden again.

Ren twists his upper body to look at him. His eyes are very bright.

“We’re connected in the Force. We’re somehow linked, you and I.” He backs into Hux and a wave of lust washes over Hux, a feeling of need so raw that his brain shuts down. There will be plenty of time for discussion, later, much later, and he eases back in, pulls out, slides back in. He goes carefully on the first few strokes although every fibre in him screams to let loose and pound away. But it’s not what _he_ wants, not yet, anyway. Until—

“So good. Gods, Hux. So good. Make it harder.”

Ren spreads his legs a bit wider and Hux feels his balls slap against Ren’s as he pushes back in, harder this time, and Ren makes this strange noise again, this low, guttural sobbing groan. It resonates deep within Hux and he wants to howl with relief at the permission granted. He starts thrusting into Ren, harder, harder, and Ren shoves back, a bit out of synch at first but then they find their rhythm. Hux thrusts forward, hard, and Ren pushes back, equally hard, back and forth, in perfect synchronicity.

At some point he changes the angle and feels the surge of lust that shoots through Ren as intimately as if it shot through him. Which it does. He looks down to where they are connected and sees his cock flash in and out and he doubles his efforts. His hands are going to leave marks on Ren’s hips, he’s sure of it, but Ren is not complaining. Ren braces himself on his left arm and reaches between his legs with his right, grunting with lust at each stroke, and then Hux feels it, the build-up of what’s inevitable.

_No, please, no. Not yet. Please._

_::Come with me, Hux. Let go.::_

And he does. Stars, does he ever. Release has never felt so…mind-shattering. The complete and utter destruction of pretty much everything Hux has known and believed to be true thus far. In its place, something new and utterly foreign. Foreign, and familiar at the same time. He doesn’t understand what’s happened to him. To them. But he doesn’t have the strength to think about it, doesn’t have it in him to analyse.

They drop down in a mad, sweaty tangle of arms and legs, muscles weak and quivering in the aftershock. Ren buries his face in the curve of Hux’ neck and Hux strokes his hair, traces the bumps of his spine to the small of his back and up again. When Ren raises his head to look at Hux, his eyes are glittering.

“That was beautiful,” he says, and his voice trembles.

Hux pulls him closer, kisses one eye, then the other, kisses the scar that mars Ren's face.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “Amazing.”

“I can feel you, Hux,” Ren whispers back, touches their foreheads together and reaches for Hux’ hand, twines their fingers together. “You’re no longer blocked off.”

“I can feel you, too. I’ve felt you in my dreams but now I feel you here,” he places their hands against his chest, “inside of me. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. You must be Force-sensitive after all.”

“But that can’t be. I was tested. Multiple times.”

Ren shrugs. “I will meditate on it. And I will reach out to my uncle. If he’s willing to speak with me. But not now.” He snakes one of his legs between Hux’. “Now, we must rest.” He kisses the tip of Hux’ nose. “Your schedule is packed, General. You need all the sleep you can get.”

“I can operate on very little sleep, Ren,” Hux says in the sing-song dialect of his childhood and notices with smug satisfaction that Ren’s pupils flare wide. _Interesting_.

“That’s good to hear, Lorrrcan. You owe me a ride.”

“I think I do indeed.”

They are asleep within minutes and the presence that’s hovered in a far edge of Hux’ mind no longer hovers. It touches him and wraps itself around him, surrounds him with warmth and…love?

_::I’m here for you. I will always be here for you. I’m yours, if you want me.::_


	11. Chapter 11

It’s impossible to reach Skywalker. He’s either changed his comm line or he’s somewhere where he cannot be reached, or maybe he simply refuses to speak to his nephew. Kylo suspects the latter because it’s hardly surprising Skywalker would break off all contact after all that Kylo has done to him and his blossoming Jedi school.

Well, in that case he must travel for there is only one place he can think of that may hold the answers he’s looking for. And that place lies in the Atravis sector of the Outer Rim Territories, a place he’s been longing to visit for a long time and is frightened to do so at the same time. Snoke has strongly advised against his going there for reasons he’s never bothered to explain.

Hux doesn’t look convinced, either, but Hux is burning to find out about their new situation just as much as he is and so he gives in after the briefest of debates. His status in the City’s Council is no longer disputed; they have all accepted him as the new Administrator and have gladly placed their problems, real or imagined, into his capable hands. According to both Ser Te-Onh and Il’Yask his formal appointment is a mere technicality and has already been agreed upon amongst the Council members, with only four votes in his disfavour. 

Kylo has his eyes on those four beings.

But what’s more, Kylo’s small group of trusted ‘associates’ has met and accepted Hux as their second-in-command. They will not necessarily follow him into battle as they will Kylo but they all understand that if anything befalls Hux during Kylo’s absence or if they disrespect him in any way, it will not end well for them. Kylo doesn’t need to spell it out for them; his reputation among the City’s less respectable inhabitants is as firmly established as is Hux’ with the Council members and he has demonstrated his fighting and killing abilities more than once.

A tall, scarred Zabrak female by the name of Kelenn will act as Hux’ shadow while Kylo is gone. Hux has long rid himself of the 'guards' assigned to him when they first arrived here, something Kylo does not approve of but as he was even quicker to send his own guards packing, he's not in a position to argue. Things have changed since then, however, and Hux has risen to a more prominent position. He doesn't need a guard while Kylo is around him but with him gone? No way. Kelenn is best qualified to watch over Hux during Kylo's absence. She is Kylo’s best fighter by far and fiercely loyal to him, and Hux’ safety is in the best of hands.

And so he stands before Hux, a pouch with enough credits tucked into his tunic to get him where he needs to go and back. 

“Be safe,” Hux says after a moment of awkward silence. 

“I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”

Neither of them is good at this.

_::Come back to me quickly. I miss you already.::_

_::I hate to leave. I cannot bear to be away from you.::_

They don’t speak the words. Too stubborn, too proud and too uncertain still. But they’re there, hanging between them.

Kylo catches Hux’ hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, then puts on his helmet and turns to leave before he embarrasses himself even more.

 

The small transport waits for him at departure pad three-oh-fifty. He nods his thanks to the group of three masked beings who have ‘organised’ it for him and drops the agreed amount of credits into their hands. Inside, he lowers himself into the pilot seat, enters the coordinates of his stopover and waits for permission to take off.

Permission is granted, and the small aircraft leaves Cloud City behind. Once he’s safely out of orbit and has switched over to autopilot, he removes his mask and adjusts the seat into a more comfortable position.

There’s so much to think about, so much to meditate on and yet, deep down inside, he’s never been so sure of anything in his whole life as he is sure about this…bond they have formed. He has no idea how it has come to pass, Hux even less so, but Hux has slipped into his system like one would slip into a tailored suit. Not that Kylo knows anything about tailored suits, that’s Hux’ territory, but it’s the only allegory he can think of, and Hux is a far better fit than Snoke’s ever been. Snoke wormed and clawed his way into young Kylo’s mind and body, scaring him, terrorising him, bending him to his will, pushing almost everything out until only anger remained, shame, rage, fury, pain and Snoke. An usurper. A foreign body.

Hux is no such thing. He doesn’t prod, push or battle for dominance. He doesn’t actively do anything inside Kylo’s mind. He’s just there, filling him with strength and the unshakeable feeling that he has his back. 

Kylo huffs.

Armitage Hux of all people. The First Order’s golden boy. The genius behind the Troopers’ programme. The mastermind behind the construction of Starkiller. Cold, measured, sleek and untouchable. 

Only, not so very cold and untouchable after all. There’s a fire behind that wall of ice waiting to be ignited and it excites and delights Kylo that he’s the one to see it burn, that he’s the one who gets to share the flames and the heat.

He closes his eyes and calls up the images he has carefully tucked away. Hux is not the only person to store away things in his brain. In a far corner of Kylo’s mind, there’s a small treasure chest that he’s not allowed anyone to touch, not his uncle, not his mother, and certainly not Snoke. There’s not an awful lot in it but he intends to add new memories. Lots of them.

Hux was good to his word and gave Kylo the ride he promised him, and if that’s the only way Hux will ever allow Kylo to fuck him, well, Kylo has no complaint about that. Because, stars, Hux is beautiful when he gives himself over to pleasure, pale as moonlight and just as graceful. When he straddled Kylo’s hips and sank down on Kylo’s length, taking him all in, Kylo had to lie very still and collect himself or it would have been over before it even started. Hux’ long, strong legs spread wide over Kylo’s hips, his lean, hard muscles flexing and relaxing with each move, with each roll of his slim hips, his body clasping him so tightly, and then, the gripping and clenching of Hux’ tight channel wresting Kylo's climax from him…and oh, the sheer joy of spending himself in Hux’ heat…now that is a memory worthy of being stored in his mental treasure chest.

It’s true, he’s never taken a vow of chastity but his sexual encounters are limited at best. There’s been a few hectic fumblings and two or three rough and mostly joyless fucks with Ryoluz, one of the Knights of Ren. Never has he expected to be so thoroughly overwhelmed by a whole myriad of emotions, fucking with his brain and mind and heart and body. Offering his ass? Giving up his position of power? Unthinkable! But then Hux sank to his knees before Kylo, not at all concerned about rank and power, and suddenly Kylo wanted nothing more than to be claimed by this man, wanted to be filled and taken and made whole again.

And then Hux was in him. Like, literally and figuratively in him. And Kylo’s entire being burst into a million tiny pieces, blowing him into the multiverse to fly helpless, bodyless through the vast nothingness, only to be sucked back through a straw and put back together, stronger, weaker, complete, whole, enriched and not understanding a thing. But Hux was still there, filling him with his beautiful cock, stretching him to the point of pain, making him moan and curse and cry out and push back. Anchoring him. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Neither of them understands what’s happened. Oh, intellectually they understand they’ve formed some kind of bond but what does it do? Where does it come from? Why them? How does it work? What is it good for? Hux has not suddenly become a Force-user, he can’t move objects with the power of his will, he cannot read anybody’s thoughts or sense anybody’s presence. It’s just them, between them. They feel each other through their bond but not as in, constantly eavesdropping or controlling each other. They choose to communicate, or they choose not to. Just like before, only different.

So that’s why he’s headed where he’s headed. To find out.

 

He makes one stopover to refuel and then arrives at his destination, approaches for landing and looks at the ruins of what must have been an impressive stronghold once. The tall, looming structure is surrounded by lava streams with most of its landing area destroyed, and he reaches deep into the Force to make out a safe spot where he can not only land his aircraft but get off the ship without risking his health.

Mustafar.

It’s the place where Anakin Skywalker turned into Darth Vader once and for all, where the Dark Lord of the Sith took up residence to study and meditate, to enhance his abilities in the Force and hone his fighting skills, and Kylo is both nervous and excited. 

What will he find here? Worst case: he will find nothing. After the fall of the Empire, the rebellion’s wrath was unleashed and turned against everything remotely reminding them of the Empire, and Vader’s strongholds would have been pretty high on the hit list. If the place is in complete ruins, then hopefully he will not stumble across half-functioning sparring droids in battle mode or anything of the sort. Best case: Vader had his study Force-protected, in which case Kylo may or may not be able to retrieve the information needed, depending on how the barriers have been set.

But first things first, and he follows the route he sees in the Force and lands his small craft safely. It’s a bit tricky but the blood of three outstanding pilots runs through his veins. He is Skywalker, and he is Solo, and while his father may have many failings, being a bad pilot is not one of them. 

There. Landed.

Kylo puts his helmet back on and activates the breathing apparatus, then he opens the door of his craft and steps off, carefully, carefully, and looks around. The entrance area itself does not look badly destroyed, it’s the equipment that’s suffered the most. He listens, both with his ears and with the Force but he hears nothing but the roaring of the lava streams and so he ventures further inside.

It fills him with sadness to follow the path of destruction that gets worse as his steps take him further into the castle, for a castle it must have been in its days of glory. It doesn’t all lie in shambles, there’s still enough to remind him of its former grandeur. There’s no pomp, no frilly carvings or anything of the sort, rather, it’s fearsome and awe-inspiring in its simplicity. The sheer size of it! High walls, vast, endless corridors. Made to impress and to inspire fear, and when Kylo reaches out with the Force, he can still sense traces of it.

In the centre, well, what feels like the centre to him, he stands and looks around. Was this an audience room of sorts? It sure looks like it with pathways leading to a circular floor plate in the middle of the room. He’s seen records of Vader and imagines him walk up to him with long strides, his cape billowing, hears the trademark breathing, sees the chest control panels glow…

But he hasn’t come here to admire the architecture or to daydream of people long dead. He’s come here with a mission, and so he gets to it. He stops only two more times to investigate two chamber that seem to be calling out to him. One holds what looks like the remains of a bacta tank. Kylo walks up to it, places a gloved hand on the shattered shell and closes his eyes.

 _Grandfather, is this the room where you came to relax? To feel…human?_  

There’s no reply, of course there isn’t. How could there be, after all these years? And yet…as he reaches deep into the Force, he thinks he senses a distant humming, as if someone recognises and acknowledges his presence. He shakes his head.  _Don’t be absurd. You’re imagining things._

In the second chamber, he finds something that looks like an escape pod of sorts. It’s roughly three metres in diameter, flattened at the bottom with lengthwise seams, probably to enable its passenger to part it. Interestingly, it is absolutely undamaged, not a single scratch mars the shiny black surface. Kylo runs his hand over it, feels another hum in the distance. Whatever this is, it’s Force-protected. If only there was more time! Surely, if he’d sink into deep meditation he could reach out to Vader in the Force. The Sith lord’s presence is still here and maybe—

“Welcome back, skyguy,” a cheerful female voice says behind him. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Skyguy?

Whoever the female is, she’s just powered up a lightsabre. No, make that two. In a flash, Kylo activates his weapon and whirls around, battle-ready but what he sees is not the female being he has expected but a faceless sparring droid, its optical sensors flickering orange-red-orange-red.

“Ready when you are, skyguy.”

What the…

No time to think, no time to wonder. The droid comes at him full speed, its white laser-blades whirring with deadly speed, swinging and lunging at him with unerring precision. Kylo’s good with his lightsabre but he’s never had any kind of formal weapons training, has taught himself everything he knows and has sparred with others who’ve had even less training than he’s had. He usually relies on the Force and his lightning-quick reflexes, and that’s exactly what he does now. Reaching into the Force and using it to guide him comes as naturally as breathing but the droid’s been programmed exceptionally well and is giving him a pfassk of a bad time.

He’s in the defensive before he can figure out what’s wrong, stumbles over a piece of debris he’s failed to see and all that’s flashing through his mind as he falls is…

_Hux—_

…and he’s caught, his energy refuels in a heartbeat and he propels himself up and out of harm’s way, comes to stand behind the droid and Force-yanks the lightsabres out of its metal grip, deactivates it by slicing through its torso and it’s over. Sparks fly from the cuts, its optical sensors flicker from the resulting system failures, dim, darken.

Kylo stretches out his hand towards the lightsabres, snatches them up and, after securely locking them, clips them to his belt. There’s no time to waste and who knows what other surprises this former stronghold has to offer but before Kylo rushes on, he crouches down next to the droid and quick-searches its now lifeless chassis for a chip, a data card or anything that may reveal its code for the programming as such was nothing short of a masterpiece. It’s long passed its prime, he sees that now,  and heavens know how it’s managed to stay hidden and in working order while every other piece of equipment around here has been so thoroughly destroyed, but it’s still given him a good scare and one hell of an unexpected workout. Maybe, if he finds the—ah. There’s a slot on the side of its ‘neck’ and a flat switch that causes a hexagonal chip to eject. 

With a satisfied grunt, he puts the chip into an inside pocket of his wide belt. Hux and his skinny ginger friend will have a feast over the programming, he’s sure of it, and once they’ve figured out the specs, he’ll have his own sparring droids commissioned. Hux must never find out but this old and battered droid has done a depressingly good job of throwing Kylo’s shortcomings as a sword-fighter into his face. Unacceptable.

“I wish you were here to teach me, Grandfather,” he says into the empty corridor. “There is so much I still have to learn.”

And he continues his search, and he eventually stands inside a small room that holds two simple wide shelves but whatever they were once holding is either gone or lies shattered and rotting on the floor. It’s all gone but for a terminal that looks as if it once was embedded into a wide desk, maybe a retractable communication centre of sorts. There’s remains of the desk still standing but most of it lies in pieces, just like everything else, but the terminal itself stands unscathed, black and shiny.

Interesting.

Kylo ventures closer, checks with all senses for warning signs from within the building, within the Force and within his direct vicinity but there’s nothing. The apparatus is silent but it does appear in the Force, the barest of outlines but it’s there, and that can only mean one thing.

He places one hand on its surface, closes his eyes and slips into a meditative trance, reaches deep into the Force, draws on his anger, his frustration and his hatred, fuelling it all with images of Snoke, with memories of being hurt in all possible ways by his former master, relives the countless times he was cut off and ridiculed, remembers the shock of finding himself on the brink of patricide and the sudden flash of fear of what he was about to become…remembers the unspeakable deeds he has committed under Snoke’s command and welcomes the familiar wave of self-loathing and pain that washes over him because it fuels his connection with the dark side.

Beneath his hand, the terminal starts humming, buzzing even, but it doesn’t activate. It makes him even angrier for how dare this lifeless lump of metal and wires deny him, Kylo, Master of the Knights of Ren, grandson and legitimate heir of Darth Vader, worthiest of all Sith Lords? How fucking, kriffing dare this piece of junk…the buzzing intensifies under his hand but still, there’s nothing. Kylo is all but fuming underneath his helmet.

If only Hux were with him now. Hux would know what to do. He always knows what to do. Hux doesn’t get angry. Hux is calm and composed and thinks before doing anything irrational. If only he were here with him now, placing his hand between his shoulder-blades, infusing him with his cool, confident calm…

 _I am here, Ren._ It’s a cool breeze across his burning rage, a healing balm to his wounds.

The screen before him flickers to life.

 _Welcome, Anakin Skywalker_ , it reads and Kylo blinks.

What is this? Some kind of particularly cruel joke to remind Vader of what once was and never will be?

No time to lose, he reminds himself, removes his gloves and gets to work. He’s nowhere near as good as Hux is with computers but he isn’t exactly ignorant, either. It takes a bit of searching but he eventually finds what he is looking for, inserts the data card Techie has given him and enters ‘download all’. It takes unbearably long to download it all but even the longest download has an end, and as soon as the card is safely tucked away, he searches for and finds the data crystals embedded in the core of the system, removes them and places an explosive device with a time-delayed ignition into the now empty spot.

He pockets the crystals, puts his gloves back on and leaves without looking back.

 

There are no further encounters with any life form, living or mechanic and he is glad of it, and when he reaches his ship, a loud booming noise signals the destruction of Vader’s former knowledge base.

He removes his helmet and turns to look into the direction from which he’s come. He doubts he’ll ever return and he’s torn between regret and relief. Regret, because he’s certain he’s sensed Vader’s presence, or echoes of it; relief, because this is a desolate place on an unkind planet. It’s lonely, too, and lonely is not what he wants. Not anymore.

“Good-bye, Grandfather,” he says. “And thank you.”

He boards his craft, enters the coordinates of Bespin and takes off.

What he wants is to go home.

 _Home_.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Hux looks up from the report he’s been studying and narrows his eyes. He’s just felt something, a presence…oh. It’s Ren. Hux still finds all of this vaguely unsettling. No, not unsettling. Unfamiliar. Yes, that’s it. He’s not used to ‘sensing’ somebody with his mind alone. It’s as if a sixth sense has been blown open which is what’s happened, sort of. Ren’s tried explaining it to him but he’s done a piss poor job of it. Small wonder, the Force has always been with him and to him, it’s got to feel like explaining colours to a blind being. But Hux has done some reading on the Force while Ren was gone, has soaked up everything he’s found in the book section on the market he now frequents every now and then, and he’s found a couple of interesting volumes.

Anyway, it’s Ren he’s sensing and much to his annoyance, Hux feels his heartbeat pick up. He frowns.

“Are the quarterly results not to your liking, sir?”

He pulls himself back into reality and shakes his head.

“No, that’s not it,” he says, aiming for a light tone. “Profits have gone up impressively since last we met. Congratulations, Dnyarme.”

Dnyarme’s face loses some of its anxious expression. He’s new in his position as head of the Crafter’s Guild after taking over from Suut who was less than happy about the changed situation. Under Dnyarme’s guidance, the Crafters’ Guild reports have become a lot more informative and dealings with the Guild have become a lot easier, and the Guild members seem to have accepted their new leader with surprisingly little debate, if their increased productivity is any indicator.

In short, Hux is satisfied with what he sees and he has learnt to say as much. This is not the First Order and while an organisation as complex as the city and its council must be led with military precision, civilians thrive on different incentives than military personnel, especially the rigidly trained First Order personnel. Hux has  carefully watched and studied Il’Yask and Ser Te-Onh and their dealings with the Council members and has adapted his approach accordingly but sometimes he wonders what his former staff would make of their General, dishing out words of praise and encouragement.

They go back to their discussions of this quarter’s results. In the short time since Ren and Hux have taken over as the City's unofficial administrators, with Hux assuming the post as Administrator of Cloud City and Ren taking down the garbage, the City’s healing process has begun and it’s is healing well. The figures aren’t nowhere near where they used to be but they’re steadily increasing. Despite all that’s happened, the Council and the Guilds are well-oiled machines with set traditions that the current office holders have effortlessly slipped into. 

There’s only one tradition that’s been broken and that’s Hux’ title. No way he is going to let himself be called ‘Baron’ Administrator and he lost no time in telling the Council Members as much when the title was offered to him. He’s settled for Chief Administrator which has a less dusty feel to it and after a brief and heated discussion, the Council members accepted the change and Hux accepted the title. The signing of the official paperwork has been postponed until Ren’s return because this is not a one man-show. They come in a package, Ren and Hux, and now even more so than before.

Speaking of which. The doors to the conference section of their hotel suite slide open and Ren enters. Ren never walks into a room. He enters. Just like he does now, pausing on the threshold for dramatic effect, helmet tucked under his arm, cape across his shoulders, lightsabre dangling from his wide belt and when all eyes are turned to him, he swans in with a swagger that comes straight from one of the stories young Armitage Hux used to read under his blanket. All he needs is an eye-patch. 

Hux inwardly rolls his eyes.

Ren’s face is an unreadable mask but his eyes light up the instant he spots Hux and a wave of lust and longing floods Hux' system. Stars above, he hopes he has his features under control.

"Welcome back, No-One," he says and rises from his chair to greet his co-commander. "I trust your mission was successful?"

"It was indeed.” Ren puts his helmet on the table. “Out, all of you,” he says curtly, to no-one in particular but nevertheless addressing each member of the small party gathered around the table. “I would speak with the General alone.”

Dnyarme and the three guild members accompanying him cast him a nervous glance but look to Hux for confirmation. Caught between indignation of being interrupted and curiosity of what Ren has achieved, Hux nods his agreement.

“We shall continue tomorrow, gentlebeings,” he says. “We have made good progress today and I trust postponing the discussion of next year’s budget will not cause irredeemable damage to your schedules?” 

The crafters hasten to reassure him that no, certainly no organisational damage will be done, and they all agree to meet the next day at sixteen-hundred hours standard time. Hux thanks them for their flexibility and accompanies them to the door.

When the lift doors have closed behind them, he returns to the living room to find Ren pulling off his boots, already having removed his cape and stripped out of his tunic.

“Look at you,” Ren says, straightening and pushing his long hair out of his face. “Quite the businessman. Discussing budgets and soothing ruffled feathers.”

“Look at you,” Hux replies, crossing his arms. “Not giving a shit about whether or not you’re wanted.”

“Ah, but I beg to differ, General.” Ren narrows his eyes and looks him up and down. “I do give a shit, and I know exactly when I’m wanted.” He lowers his gaze. “And something tells me I’m wanted very much.”

Hux presses his lips together but he cannot and will not deny the truth of that statement. 

“You were gone for a long time,” he says instead. Strictly speaking, it’s not been all that long, little more than two standard weeks, but Hux hated every day of being without Ren.

“I know,” Ren says. “I thought I’d be back sooner. Which is ridiculous, given the distance I had to travel.” He takes a step towards Hux. “The stars know why but I can’t seem to function well without you by my side.”

“Oh really?” Hux lifts an eyebrow. “That must be very annoying.”

“It is,” Ren confirms without hesitation. “It’s like we’ve become two sides of a credit. Isn’t that how the ancient saying goes?”

“It’s two sides of the same coin. Why is that?”

“There were two situations when I thought all was lost. And both times I thought of you. Go figure.”

“And?”

“I won.” Ren has come to stand very close before him and has begun to unfasten Hux’ uniform jacket. “And I will tell you all about it. But not now. Now I really need to—”

Hux reaches for him, buries his hands in Ren’s hair and brings their lips together with more force than he has intended. Their front teeth collide with an audible click and then there’s the metallic tang of blood. Ren huffs and pulls back, touches his fingers to his lower lip. The blood is his.

“Damn, Hux,” he says, sounding surprised and aroused at the same time. “And all this time I thought I was the one with the rotten temper.” He wipes the blood away with the back of his hand. 

“You don’t know shit,” Hux says, shrugs out of his jacket and pulls his shirt over his head. “Do you not know what they say of redheads?”

Ren starts as if to reply but before he can utter one syllable, Hux licks across Ren’s split lip, tastes his blood and pushes his tongue inside Ren’s mouth. Ren’s hands are on his arse in a split-second and he lifts him up. He likes to do that, lift Hux up as if he was a feather-weight which he isn’t and Hux has no real objection to being manhandled like that. There’s something about the sheer size of Ren, the intimate knowledge of how strong he really is, that turns him on to a degree that he would never, ever admit out loud. 

He clings to Ren, kissing him deeply and hotly until they’ve reached Ren’s bedroom. Here, he unglues himself from Ren’s massive frame and loses no time divesting both of them of the rest of their clothes, pushes Ren backwards and onto the bed, then stretches out next to him and pulls him into an embrace. They lie still like that for a few heartbeats, content to just hold each other and feel the other’s body heat. Then,

“I missed you,” Ren whispers. “Being away from you tears me apart.”

“Yes,” Hux whispers back, “I feel the same way.”

And he kisses Ren again, more careful this time, and Ren kisses him back, not giving a kriff about careful. With a moan, Hux throws a leg over Ren’s hips, presses himself flush against him, ready to lose himself in the heat and strength of Ren’s body. Ren pulls him closer, rubs his thick cock against Hux’ and Hux lets himself fall into Ren’s lust. Ren’s passion is like a red hot firebrand, it washes over him, over them, and Hux reaches out to him, somehow, fumbles his way through this link of theirs, and channels Ren’s fire so it fuels their desire rather than burn them both. 

They’ve not done this very often, fucking, not yet, maybe four or five times before Ren set out on his mission, but it’s something Hux intends to change. He’s always prided himself of not being a slave to his base needs but with Ren…with Ren, it’s frighteningly different. Ren’s kindled something inside him that cannot be quenched with anything other than—

“Stars, Hux, yeah, like that.”

Already Ren’s body feels as familiar as Hux’ own. He knows that if he touches him just so, Ren will flex his muscles like that, and if he grabs him here and with this exact amount of pressure, the powerful body will arch up with raw need.

But it works both ways, doesn’t it, and Ren knows exactly what to do to make Hux—

“Harder, Ren.”

Ren chuckles and complies, and they writhe around and against each other, hands grabbing, teeth scraping, sweating, swearing, moaning, licking, sucking.

“Me or you?” Ren asks, looking up from between Hux’ legs. His long hair brushes against Hux’ thighs and he kisses the base of Hux’ cock. “What will it be, General?”

Hux looks down into Ren’s dark eyes. What Ren wants is written all over his face and it’s what Hux wants, too. He spreads his legs wider.

“You do it,” he says. “Give me your cock.”

Ren nods wordlessly and he holds out his hand, Force-fetches the lube that sits on the bedside table (no more make-do lotion for them, thank you) and clicks the bottle open. He prepares and stretches Hux with almost laughable care and Hux says as much, caught between arousal and amusement.

“You may stop now, Ren, I can assure you I’m quite ready. I’m not exactly fragile, you know.”

“I know you’re not,” Ren says and shifts so he kneels between Hux’ legs. He squirts a generous amount of lube into his hand, throws the bottle aside and starts slicking himself up. “But I’m not exactly small.” 

It’s said without even a hint at arrogance because it’s true, and Hux swallows, feeling his hole clench in anticipation. He gets to his knees, too, and gives Ren a push, catches him off guard and Ren drops sideways into the luxurious sheets, turns to lie on his back with a grin.

“So impatient, General,” he says lazily, but his own impatience is unmistakable. It’s in his dark eyes that look almost black in the dimmed light, it’s in the way he bites his lower lip when Hux straddles his hips, and it’s most obvious in the amount of pre-cum making his bulbous cockhead glisten. His desire washes over Hux like a heatwave, and it warms him from inside out.

“You don’t seem exactly disinclined, Ren,” Hux states with an exaggerated burr and softened consonants, switching to his home dialect that he knows Ren likes so much. He gives Ren’s length a light flick with his middle-finger and positions himself. “Are you ready?”

Ren doesn’t reply, only nods and reaches between them, holds his cock in place so Hux can slide down on it. They both gasp when the blunt head of Ren’s cock breaches Hux’ entrance and Hux throws his head back, groaning with pain and lust. He reaches blindly for Ren’s hands, twines their fingers together and slides all the way down in one move. The moment Ren is seated deep within Hux, their connection flares wide open and Hux sees himself through Ren’s eyes, feels the snug grip he has on Ren’s cock, feels Ren’s joy of being so intimately connected with someone he’s wanted for so long, someone he’s admired for his composure and self-discipline, someone who has the prettiest mouth ever…feels Ren’s embarrassment for broadcasting his feelings and thoughts. He brings Ren’s hands to his lips, kisses the knuckles, the broad palms.

“I’ve wanted you, too,” he says. “Always. You have no idea.”

He bends down to kiss Ren. It’s an uncomfortable angle for kissing and he nudges Ren, motions for him to change position.

“But I thought—” Ren wraps his arms around Hux and flips them so Hux comes to lie on his back, uses his superior strength to full advantage. He props himself up on his elbows and looks into Hux’ face. “I thought you loathe being folded in half and you hate being crowded.”

“I’m not folded in half,” Hux wraps his legs around Ren’s hips, “and you don’t crowd me.”

He pulls him down for another kiss.

_::You complete me.::_

He doesn’t say it out loud but he doesn’t have to. Ren makes a strange little noise, almost like a sob, and with a powerful thrust buries himself even deeper in Hux. 

_::Mine.::_

_::Yours.::_

 

Afterwards, they lie entangled in the now rumpled sheets. Hux is half sitting and half lying with his back against the piled up pillows, Ren’s head on his stomach. With his new-found sense, Hux has come to understand that Ren likes to be held after sex. Hux himself doesn’t, but he likes to hold. Hold Ren, that is. There’s something comforting and reassuring about feeling Ren’s big, warm body so close to his. And so he pulls Ren closer and rakes his hand through Ren’s hair, plays with the soft strands, twists them around his fingers.

“So, how did it go?” he asks. “Did you find the information you were looking for?”

“Mhm.” Ren twists around so he comes to face Hux. “I hope so. I found Vader’s database, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, it looked like his personal workspace.” He sits up and Hux feels oddly deprived of his warmth. “I wish you could have seen it, Hux. The place is a ruin now, sadly, but it’s still damn impressive.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

And Ren starts to talk, but Hux watches him more than he listens. Oh, he does listen, but his attention is fixed on Ren’s face, on how his eyes light up when he talks about the remnants of Vader’s presence he thinks he’s sensed in the Sith Lord’s former fortress, on how his voice sounds—full of awe, of almost childlike admiration. He talks with lively gestures and a myriad of emotions dances across his face. No more sign of his former sulk or his brooding expression and Hux thinks he’s never seen a more attractive human being in his entire life.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“That’s a silly question, coming from you. It’s not like I ever met him.”

“But you’ve felt him in the Force, right?”

Ren cocks his head, mulls this over. “Yes and no,” he finally says. “There were times when I was younger, when I thought I felt—” he breaks off.

“Yes?” Hux encourages.

“I thought I felt somebody’s presence behind me, shielding me when times were…when things got difficult.” He frowns. “I tried to find out about that presence in my meditations. I reached out for it in the Force but it always danced out of reach so I was never sure of who it really was.”

“Could it have been your uncle? You are connected to him in the Force, too, are you not? And he used to teach you. Maybe he still feels responsible for you, in a way.”

“No. My uncle feels different. This was much stronger, much more in control. In fact, it felt a bit like…like you, Hux.”

“What?” Hux huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t even know you when you were a child, and I don’t think I have Vader’s presence. Not in life and certainly not in the Force. I don’t even know how to use the Force.”

“Have you tried again?” 

“Move things around, you mean? Yes, once or twice. It’s not working.”

“And other beings? Do you feel them?”

“No, thankfully not. You’re the only one I can feel in my mind and I prefer to leave it like that. Which reminds me of something I wanted to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Does it work across long distances, too, this…bond or whatever it is that we seem to have?”

“There is no such thing as long distance in the Force. The concept of time and space as we define it does not exist there. The Force just is. Why are you asking?”

“I just remembered what you said earlier, that there were two situations when you thought you were lost. Well, there were two moments when I thought you reached out for me.” He worries his lower lip. “You were getting angry at something and wished for me to be by your side, to balance your temper.” He reaches up and pulls at a strand of Ren’s hair. “As if anything or anybody could balance that temper of yours.”

Ren catches his hand and kisses his wrist. “You can,” he simply says. “You’re calm to my chaos, Hux. An anchor to hold me in place.” He gives a small, wry smile. “Without you, I would have fallen into the abyss Snoke has prepared for me. I’m glad all of this has happened the way it did.” He falls silent after this short outburst, hangs his head as if embarrassed. 

Hux doesn’t know what to say to his, and so he presses Ren’s hand.

“I felt you fall,” he says after a pause. “While you were gone, I mean. I thought I heard you call my name and I felt you fall. I don’t know how to slip into meditation as quickly as you do. I’ve never actually meditated, you know, and I don’t know how to actively do anything with the Force either. But I remember thinking, oh no you won’t, not on my watch, and there was the oddest of feelings as if that somehow stopped you from falling.”

“It did. You saved me.”

“What happened?”

“Well, there was this droid that came at me with full speed…” 

And now Hux listens with full attention. A still functioning droid in the ruins of Vader’s castle? Fascinating. He knows by now that Vader had some engineering skills but to have constructed a droid that’s managed to hide and save itself from the destruction done to the Empire’s strongholds, that is more than ’some’ engineering skills. Maybe they can use this knowledge somehow because, well, they might need bodyguards at some point. There was a situation during Ren’s absence and it was only thanks to Kelenn’s quick reflexes and ruthlessness that Hux got out of it unharmed. The Zabrak female literally saved his skin. But he’s not going to tell Ren about it. Not now, anyway. Later.

“Did you manage to retrieve the droid’s memory chip?” he asks, intrigued, and Ren nods. 

“I did, yes.”

“What do you plan to do with it?”

Ren presses his lips together. “I thought about giving it to Techie, along with the data crystals of Vader’s database,” he says after a moment. “Maybe he can crack the programming and build a sparring droid to my specifications.”

“Do you think you need a sparring droid? I always thought you’re pretty effective with that lightsabre of yours.”

“You really thinks so?” Ren looks genuinely surprised. “I’ve never had formal training, you see. And that sparring droid was pretty damn good.”

“Well, then let Techie have a look at the chip. I bet it’ll make his day. In the meantime, you could spar with me,” he offers and Ren’s head jerks up. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“Spar with you?”

“Why ever not?”

“Do you even know how to handle a lightsabre?”

“Of course not. Lightsabres weren’t exactly standard issue at the Academy. But I did take sword fight lessons during my off-hours.”

“Really?”

“Really. Did you think me a mere paper soldier who got where he was because of his daddy?”

“Uhm—”

“You’re an arse, Ren.” He punches Ren’s arm but he does so without force and without malice. “I scored top results in my martial arts class and I’ve never stopped training.”

“Really?” This time, there is no amused glint in Ren’s eyes. He looks interested. “As in, hand-to-hand combat?”

“That, and sword fight, too. I’m actually pretty good with a blade so until your sparring droid is ready, I can be your sparring partner. If you want.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Ren says. “I miss having a training partner.” He lies back down with his head on Hux’ stomach and Hux’ hand returns automatically to playing with his long hair.

“Didn’t you just tell me you weren’t formally trained?”

“Well no, I wasn’t. I did practice with the other Knights of Ren, though. But it was more like, you know, make do with what we had. Study our opponents and try to copy their moves. Nobody ever really taught us. Most of what I know I learnt from my uncle. He taught me the basics.”

“Well, I’d be happy to help out. If you don’t cheat, that is.”

“Cheat?” 

“Using the Force during sparring. I won’t be much help then.”

“I’m not sure I can switch it off.”

“Oh. Well. Then promise you won’t Force-throw me against a wall or something.”

“I won’t,” Ren says, earnestly. “I promise. So,” he pulls up his legs and reaches for Hux’ free hand to drape Hux’ arm around his waist and pulls the blanket up some, “how’s everything been going here? Have they made you Baron Administrator yet?”

“The title’s been offered to me, yes. But I haven’t signed anything yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because you weren’t here. I’m not signing any official document without your co-signature. We’re doing this together, remember?”

“Mhm. Does that make me Administrator, too?”

“I think not.” Hux frowns. “I don’t think there’s ever been two of them. But that doesn’t mean we can’t change it, yes? I mean, I’ve already changed the title itself.”

“Oh yeah? What will you call yourself then?”

“It’ll be Chief Administrator from now on.”

“What, no Baron? I think it’d sound kind of sexy, Baron Hux.” 

He grins as he says it and Hux snorts.

“Don’t be ridiculous. ‘Baron’ sounds too much like pompous robes and big guts.”

“Calrissian doesn’t have a big gut.”

“But he likes to dress like a relic from times long gone. At least from what I’ve seen of him.”

“Uncle Lando dresses with style and flamboyance,” Ren points out. “That’s what he used to say when Dad teased him.”

“Uncle Lando?” Hux grins. “Did he carry you around on his shoulders, too?”

“No, he didn’t. But Chewie did.”

Hux bites back a remark. Ren is still very touchy on the subject of his family, now even more so than before, now that things have changed. Are about to change. Hux isn’t sure whether or not Ren has spoken with his mother yet but he knows he’s stayed in touch with his father ever since they’ve arrived in Cloud city and Hux is glad about it. He’s changed his mind about Solo during the time they spent on the _Falcon_. A tight friendship between them is unlikely, but he seemed a decent enough fellow. He had no business saving him along with his son, after all.

“Anyway,” he says, picking up their original subject, “I’ll be Chief Administrator and you could be Chief of Security. What do you think of that?”

Ren frowns. “I don’t need a title. I don’t care about being a chief anything. I’ll be your shadow. The Enforcer. That’s what they call me now and I’m all right with that. I don’t need a title on a document, as long as we are clear, you and I.”

“We are.” Hux reaches for Ren’s hand and presses it. “I need you by my side, Ren. I can’t do this without you.” He’s surprised at how easy it was to say it but it’s true, and he feels the bond between them hum with something like approval.

_::I need you, Ren.::_

_::And I you. More than you know, Hux.::_

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a scene where (Force-) torture is used in the interrogation of a prisoner. It's a brief scene and not too graphic but it's unpleasant and non-p.c. nevertheless. It's meant to serve as a reminder of who Kylo Ren used to be and what he used to do routinely while he was in Snoke's service. It's a one-time scene and nothing of the sort will occur again over the course of the fic.

When Kylo wakes up the next morning, Hux is gone. Kylo yawns and stretches, making his shoulders plop, and when he rolls over to bury his face in Hux’ pillow, certain parts of his body remind him that Hux gives as good as he takes. He’s thorough, has the stamina of a long distance runner and knows just how to turn Kylo into a whimpering wreck. Kylo smiles with the memory and inhales deeply. The pillow smells of Hux, that unique blend of hair product, body wash and Hux himself, it smells of his lust, his strength and his passion, of his willingness to surrender to Kylo’s physical strength and of the surprising gentleness with which he holds Kylo after their fucking. 

Kylo reaches for him through their connection in the Force, senses he’s busy and in discussion with Il’Yask, and withdraws. Hux is not yet used to communicating like that and has only just begun to wrap that sharp brain of his around a concept that escapes the rules of reason, and Kylo doesn’t want to force himself on him like that.

He turns to lie on his back again and touches his fingers to a spot near his neck where Hux has left a mark for sure, biting and sucking at Kylo’s skin as Kylo pounded into him, and here, just above the left elbow, here’s a bruise beginning to form. He’s got strong hands, Hux does, and knows how to wrap his fingers around Kylo just so…

The door to the bedchamber hisses open, making Kylo start. His lightsabre flies into his hand and flares to life.

“Good morning and apologies, sir,” an expressionless female voice says. “I see you have not yet risen. Would you like me to delay the cleaning cycle?”

“Skrogging hell,” he growls and switches the lightsabre off. “Don’t you droids have a heat detector or something? Isn’t there a protocol that tells you to check before you enter somebody’s bedroom?”

The cleaning droid fixes its unblinking stare on Kylo. “My sensors tell me of an unusually high temperature in the approximate centre of your frame, sir. Are you in pain? Should I alarm a med droid?”

“Fuck you.” Kylo climbs out of bed. “I was about to jerk off, that’s why my centre appears overheated. It’s cooling down as we speak and I’m heading for the fresher now. Don’t you dare come after me. Adjust your cleaning cycle and busy yourself in my bedroom and the living room section until I’m gone.”

“Yes sir.” 

With one last regretful look to the pillow and the rumpled sheets, Kylo walks past the droid, naked, barefoot and lightsabre in hand, and heads straight for the smaller bathroom where the fresher is. He longs for a good, hot shower with the expensive body products he’s come to appreciate but he really must catch up with his group, and it will not do to meet them smelling like he’s just come back from a spa trip.

******

Kelenn waits for him in a corner of a food market on level one thirty-two. She’s chewing on something perfectly round and very green. Her sharpened fangs glint in the light of the old lamp mounted on the wall.

“Welcome back, Captain,” she greets him. “It’s good to see you unharmed. I trust all went well?”

“It went as expected. Status?” 

He turns to his left and motions for her to walk with him. She takes one last bite from the green thing, throws it in the direction of a group of small furry creatures who immediately start a fight over it and pushes herself off the wall to fall into step next to him. 

“We ran into some trouble with our good friends, the Hutts. Looks they’re about to pull their forces together on levels one forty-eight and one forty-nine. The Yilzo bunch has decided Cloud City’s no longer worth their while and have left for brighter shores, which is good. The restaurant owners on level one twenty-two tell us they’re not bothered by the Rronii any longer, good also. A week ago, however—” she stops, frowns and asks instead, “Have you spoken to the General yet, sir?”

“I have, yes. What is it?”

“We ran into a…a situation.”

“Out with it.”

“There was an assassination attempt, Captain. With the General being the target.”

“What.” Kylo stops dead in his tracks. “Say that again.”

“Somebody tried really hard to get rid of the General.”

“Go on.”

“The General was on his way back from one of the lower levels—”

“What lower level?”

“Level two twenty-five. Inspection of a durasteel factory only recently put back into operation.”

“Alone?”

“No, sir, but he dropped behind to discuss something of a confidential nature with the factory’s general manager.”

“Diversionary tactic, obviously.”

“I believe not, sir. We have, uhm, questioned him and his managing staff and overseers. No hidden agenda there.”

“Good. Who was it, then?”

“We’re still looking into that.”

“How many?”

“Four. Three were killed in action but the fourth is enjoying a well-deserved break in one of our cozy retreats on level one sixty. I take him to be a hired assassin but you may want to interview him yourself.”

“I will. How exactly did it happen?” 

“They didn’t go about it very professionally. Four masked thugs, miserable firepower, no skill with blades. Whoever hired them either has no idea how to tell a thug from a professional, or thought the General was just another paper-eater like the rest of the Council. And of course they didn’t expect me.”

“They were in for a surprise, then.”

“Oh yes, they were.” She grins as she remembers. “Fuck me, but it was a good fight. Over too quickly, of course, but good. And the General?” She gives a low whistle. “He sure knows how to hold his own.”

“He does?”

“He’s not battle-trained,“ she says, “but he’s neither nervous nor inappropriately reckless. On the contrary, he keeps a remarkably calm head in dangerous situations and let me tell you, sir, I would not want to be on the receiving end of one of his kicks. He’s got some skills with a blade, too.”

“Really?” Kylo asks, surprised. Kelenn is not one to praise quickly.

“Really. He’s quick, strong and ruthless. Excellent reflexes, too. If ever the Council gets tired of their boss, he would be a valuable addition to our group. I would personally train him.” She laughs a throaty laugh. “Hellfires, I would mate with him.”

“Out of the question,” Kylo snaps.

Kelenn’s eyes widen, then she nods, as if to herself.

“So it is true what they say, then.”

“What is?”

“The General and his Enforcer are a bonded couple.”

 _::Mine.::  
_ _::Yours.::_

“Yes.” 

He sees no reason to deny it. He has entrusted the Zabrak with Hux’ safety and she has already proven worthy of his trust, so he might as well tell it as it is. To his surprise, she gets down on one knee and puts both fists to her chest.

“I spoke out of line and I sincerely apologise for my inappropriate remark, sir. The General is a male of worth and I would be honoured to serve him. I will gladly give my life to protect that of your bondmate, Captain.” 

It is spoken in a fierce voice and her orange eyes hold a barely suppressed fire.

Kylo cocks his head, looks at her through the visor of his helmet as he mulls over her words. It’s true, he has thought about finding a bodyguard for Hux because he himself can’t always be by Hux’ side. It’s also true that he has noticed growing animosities towards the City’s new leader, the unknown upstart who has come out of nowhere and has assumed command. The Council called for help to rid the City of the crime syndicates plaguing its inhabitants, yes, but Kylo is not entirely sure a new and thorough leader was what they bargained for. It’s not been for the worse of the City and Hux’ leadership is widely accepted, but still there’s beings who’d have preferred to keep things as they were.

So yes, it’s high time indeed he finds a personal bodyguard for the Chief Administrator, and Kelenn is the most obvious choice for the post. 

“You don’t kneel before me, Kelenn,” he says in reply to her suggestion. “You are my best fighter and you have proven your worth more than once. I have heard your proposal and I will speak to the General about it. I share your opinion that he needs a bodyguard and there is no-one else into whose hands I would entrust his personal safety.” He huffs out a short laugh. “I doubt he’ll see the need, though. But speak to him I will.”

He’ll do more than that. He’ll apply Force persuasion if need be. Only…will it work on Hux? He’s not reached him in the Force before and now, that they are linked, he’s not so sure if he can influence him against his will.

Kelenn rises and after walking in silence for a while picks up where she has left off and fills him in on some more news—no more shoplifting on levels seventy-three and sixty-two, a new syncgreen dealer trying to take over level two eighteen, rumours of an upcoming bounty hunter gathering, and speaking of rumours,

“They say the Enforcer is a Grey Jedi.”

He turns his head to look at her but he doesn’t reply.

“They say he’s a Force-warrior.”

Still he doesn’t say anything and keeps walking.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Are you?”

“There are no Jedi anymore,” he says instead. 

“But you wield a lightsabre.”

“A lightsabre is just another weapon. All you need is the parts and the knowledge how to assemble them. Nothing mystic about it.”

She snorts, feigns a coughing fit but does a poor job of hiding her scepticism. “But you are a Force-user, sir. We’ve all seen you fight.”

“So? That doesn’t make me a Jedi, grey or otherwise. Nor does it make me a Sith, if that is what _they_ offer as an alternative.”

“What does it make you, then?”

“It makes me who I am.” He holds up a hand when she opens her mouth to speak. “It’s not up for discussion, Kelenn. You will be told all you need to know in due time.”

“Understood, Captain.”

“Prepare the prisoner to meet me in one standard hour.”

“Will do.”

 

He looks after her as she turns around the corner. These Jedi rumours must be stopped. He has no interest in rekindling ancient sparks that he has helped stamp out. The Jedi order is all but extinct, with his uncle being the last living Jedi master. The Sith? Who knows. But reveal himself as a Knight of Ren he cannot. Not without attracting most unwanted attention.

If he hasn’t attracted it already. Surely his presence in the Force has not gone unnoticed, and what that bond between himself and Hux has stirred up, he cannot know. 

He must speak about this with Hux.

Not now, though. There is something else to take care of first and he sends a text message to Techie through their comm line, requesting an urgent meeting. He hits ‘send’, then remembers how jumpy the skinny creature is and adds, ‘ _either your quarters or ours, whatever you prefer, and Matt is welcome too_ ’. There. That should make it sound less of a summons.

His comm receiver vibrates almost immediately. 

‘ _I’ve got one hour before my next assignment. Come now if you can. Our quarters, level two hundred ten, number 1905-17._ ’

Huh. Doesn’t sound that jumpy after all, does it.

‘ _On my way._ ’

 ******

Before he presses the buzzer of 1905-17, he takes off his helmet for Techie to recognise him when he lets him in. He’s only seen Matt’s partner twice and he was dressed a lot more casually than he is now. Techie’s not seen him in his fighting leathers yet and he doesn’t want to frighten him. He needs his help, after all, and scaring him off will not be of much use.

But Techie’s weird bionic eyes still widen with barely concealed fright when the door opens. It’s not a sliding door, Kylo notices absent-mindedly, but a rather old-fashioned door that swings open. The skinny ginger eyes him nervously but after an awkward moment bids Kylo step inside.

It’s a small place, too small for two grown men and Kylo feels oddly oversized, standing in what looks like the living room section. Living corner, actually, with a tiny table and two rather small chairs tucked neatly under it. On the opposite wall there’s a desk, wider than the dining table, and there’s all sorts of computer equipment set up, lined up to look like a miniature control centre.

“Please, sit,” Techie says and points to one of the small chairs.

Kylo puts his helmet on the table, pulls one of the chairs out from under it and sits down very carefully. There’s no treacherous creak. The chair holds. Then again, Matt is not precisely small, either, and if these…chairlets hold Matt, then chances are good they will hold Kylo, too.

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice,” he says politely. “I know it’s usually Hu—Lorcan you work for, assisting him in his official capacity and such, but I have something of a, well, let’s say a more personal nature that I wouldn’t want to place into anybody else’s care. Lorcan knows about this, by the way, so there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Techie says in a firm voice but his eyes are whirring open and close, indicating he’s not quite as calm as he’d like to appear.

“And you don’t have to be. You’re Matt’s partner, and the General holds you in high regard.”

“He does?” 

Techie’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink and Kylo briefly wonders whether Techie—how did Kelenn put it?—wants to mate with Hux, too. He pushes the thought aside and nods reassuringly.

“He does. In fact, he’s rather smug about having contracted you into his service, saying you’ve become an invaluable asset.”

It’s not exactly a lie. A tiny, excusable exaggeration, maybe. Hux is indeed more than appreciative of what Techie does and has spoken of putting him into charge of the City’s main systems, of offering him a permanent position under his direct command. _‘As soon as all this official brouhaha has been dealt with. What do you think, Ren?’_ Kylo is still not quite used to Hux asking for his opinion, just as he is sure Hux is not quite used to discussing things with him. Back on the _Finalizer_ , back on Starkiller, they merely co-existed under Snoke’s regime of terror and contempt. Joining forces never occurred to either of them. But that was back then, and this is now.

“So,” he continues and leans back experimentally. The chair still doesn’t creak. “Instead of bothering Il’Yask with the impossible task of finding someone with a skill set similar to yours, I’ve decided to contact you directly.”

He reaches into the pouch fastened next to his lightsabre and puts Vader’s data crystals and the droid’s chip on the table.

In an instant, all of Techie’s nervousness is gone and he comes nearer, sits down on the second chair and reaches for the crystals, stops himself just in time.

“May I?” he asks and Kylo nods encouragingly.

“Of course you may,” he says. “I’ve brought them here for you to have a closer look. I don’t expect you to figure them out by visual diagnosis alone.”

Techie shoots him a glance, then the corners of his mouth curve and he chuckles softly. He picks one crystal up and looks at it, turns it and studies it from all angles.

“I’ve only ever seen one of these,” he breathes. “And that was a broken one, no longer functional. This kind of crystal has not been used since—” he breaks off and swallows.

“Yes, since the Sith and the Jedi,” Kylo confirms. “I know. You don’t need to know the origin of these three. Not yet. I’ve downloaded everything to the datacard you gave me,” he pulls the card out of a slot of his wide belt and hands it to Techie, “but I can’t access it. Everything was easily downloadable but it’s encrypted. I don’t know pfassk about encryptions but you do. Will you look into this for me? You will get paid, of course.”

“Mhm.” Techie’s attention is still fixed on the crystal. He reaches for a second one, holds it against the first crystal, seems to compare the two. “What’s with the chip?”

“I retrieved it from a sparring droid. Will you take a look at it, too? I’d like to commission a droid for myself if you can figure out the code.”

Techie makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort, puts down the crystals and picks up the chip. 

“Looks old but doesn’t seem damaged. At least not on the outside. Want me to take a quick look now?”

“Would you?”

“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you. My equipment’s right there and I still have about thirty minutes left.”

“Then please do.”

He follows Techie to his work station and watches him insert the chip into one of his machines. His fingers fly over the keyboard and indecipherable rows of data appear on the screen. Kylo bents forward to take a closer look but it’s all warbles and gibberish to him. But Techie, Techie gives a low whistle and enters a string of commands that make some of the data come forward in different colours.

“Fucking hell,” he says, his voice quivering with excitement. “That’s some tight shit. Whoever programmed this was a kriffing genius!”

Kylo feels his chest swell with filial pride. Well, grand-filial pride. 

“Is it something you could work with?”

“Definitely. What do you want me to do with it?”

“For now, I’d like you to just look through it and figure out what’s been programmed in terms of setting up a sparring droid. We can talk about that later. The crystals are far more important. I believe they contain sensitive material, classified stuff that needs to be made accessible for mine and the General’s eyes only. And yours, obviously. Do you think you can work on all of this without anyone spying on you?”

There’s that sound again, that soft snort.

“Please. When I want to keep something secret, it’s in-fucking-visible. I’ve handled some shit in the past—well. Unless someone breaks in and physically robs all of this, your sensitive material is safe with me. And it will stay safe. I’ve given Lorcan my word.”

He looks very serious as he says it and the thought occurs to Kylo whether Hux is using the Force without being aware of it. Or does he actually inspire such trust and loyalty? The old Hux wasn’t much of a people person but they’ve both changed since they were left to die on Starkiller, haven’t they?

And…damn, why hasn’t he thought of it sooner…there’s something else he needs to consider. He’s fairly certain Techie’s been seen coming and going to and from their hotel suite. He’s been at Cloud City for a while now, same as Matt, and he’s made himself a name as a go-to person where computer matters are concerned. Maybe not on a great scale but he must have a set of clients, and from what he’s caught between the lines of what Matt’s been telling him, not all of his contacts are on the strictly law-abiding side, whether by Techie’s knowledge and free will or not. So it’s safe to assume that only the most ignorant of beings won’t be able to make a connection between the City’s new leader and Techie’s field of specialty. What if someone were to…stars, he must speak to Kelenn and see if she knows anyone who can watch over Techie. Matt, too, for he is Techie’s partner, but Techie’s the one most likely in need of protection while Hux’ leadership still meets with opposition. Not necessarily around the clock, not yet, but a set of watchful eyes cannot hurt.

“Very well,” he says and walks over to the table to pick up his helmet. “You take a look at those for me and when you think you’ve got them figured out, come to see us at once. The General is informed and has in all likelihood had your clearance adjusted accordingly. Il’Yask will take care of your payment, as usual.”

Techie nods, switches his computers off and gets up. It’s only now that Kylo notices how tall he really is, almost as tall as Kylo himself, and he no longer slumps his shoulders the way he did when they first met. He’s still nervous but something’s happened in the meantime, something’s that given him confidence. Kylo reaches out in the Force, reaches into Techie’s mind without thinking but pulls back almost immediately. It’s not what he does anymore, not without expressed permission, not unless their security is at risk. He will not probe Techie’s mind against his will. But as he pulls back, he brushes a freshly sprung source of happiness and content. Of finally feeling acknowledged and respected. Of not being seen only for what he can do with a skill set he happens to have. Of being…loved.

Not so different from what he himself feels around Hux.

He clears his throat.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me. Tell Matt I said hi and tell him I plan to be at the gym tonight, usual time.”

“I will.”

******

The ‘cozy retreat’ on level one sixty is an abandoned gaming hell in a particularly unsavoury part of Port Town’s less pleasant quarters. Very few beings venture here now that the district’s been taken over by freelance criminals—those not affiliated with any of the larger gangs and cartels—and smugglers. Not that it’s ever been precisely respectable but the City’s development over the last decades has not helped change that. An unstable truce of sorts exists between those who still have dealings here, and Kylo has decided to leave it at that because it serves his purpose. For now. 

Two Umbarans, twin brothers, stand on either side of the prisoner who’s been placed on a chair to await the Enforcer’s arrival. The prisoner’s a gaunt human male with light brown hair and soft blue eyes who spits on the ground when Kylo enters the dimly lit back room.

“The Enforcer,” he sneers in a voice that is anything but soft. “A creature in a mask. No balls to show your face, do you?”

The Umbaran standing to his left deals him a blow with the butt of his gun that has the prisoner double over. It does nothing to the venom in his eyes.

“Letting others do his dirty work for him.” He spits again and this time, there’s blood, too. “Just as he does the General’s dirty work for him. What a pretty pair. Just what we fucking—”

Whatever else he plans to say turns into a croak when Kylo silences him with a Force choke.

“I have no time for this,” he says curtly. “Nor do I have time or the inclination to question you for hours on end. I think it’s best if you just tell me what I want to know.”

“Fuck me.”

“You wish. So.” He crouches down and looks up into the human’s face and reaches inside his mind. “Who?”

“I know nothing.”

“Who?”

“I know nothing.”

“Again. Who.”

“Fuck you.”

The human is surprisingly Force-resistant. _Interesting_. Kylo reaches deeper, goes for the man’s neural system and activates some of the most crucial trigger points. 

The man gasps with pain and surprise. “Fuuuck—”

Kylo presses harder. The man howls.

“Who.”

“Fuuuuu—” 

He goes for the digestive system. The man soils himself as his bowels let go, screams with rage and pain.

“Who.”

Harder.

Sobbing.

Again.

The human twitches, slides off the chair, comes to lie on the ground.

“Well?”

“Kuirleng,” the man howls. “Kuirleng. She wants the General gone.”

Kuirleng? The Council’s treasurer? Well. Well indeed.

Kylo lets go of the prisoner. The man curls into a ball, folds his hands over the back of his neck as if to protect himself from a blow. The second Umbaran places one of his heavy boots on the prisoner’s head and looks at Kylo, waiting for his order to crush the man. 

Kylo shakes his head, no.

“That won’t be necessary.” He reaches for the man’s chin, forces his face up. “All of this is a horrible, horrible nightmare,” he says softly. “None of this has really happened. When you wake up, you will wonder what in the name of the moon you were drinking last night, making you shit all over yourself like that. Better get home, take a good, hot shower, burn your stinking clothes and go get a job with the City’s garbage disposal unit, just as you planned. Do you agree?”

The man nods, still sobbing.

“Do you agree?” Kylo asks again.

“I’m not touching that stuff again,” the man croaks. “It’s poison.”

Kylo lets go of his chin, reaches into the man’s mind and deactivates his memories of the last three months. That should do the trick.

“Sleep now.”

He waits until the man’s eyes have fluttered close, then rises and nods at the Umbarans.

“Drop him off before a particularly nasty booze hole.”

“But sir, don’t you think we should just…” He makes an unmistakable gesture but Kylo shakes his head.

“No. I got what I need. Let’s not waste resources on one who’s not worth it.”

The pale near-human starts as if to say something.

“Yes?” Kylo asks, very softly. “Are you in disagreement, Luuls?”

His twin, Leels, places a hand on his brother’s arm in warning.

“Whatever your decision, Captain,” Leels says, silencing his brother with a look. “But we will keep an eye on him for the next few days.”

“You do that.” He turns to go. “Kelenn, with me.”

Kelenn, who has kept in the background, steps forward and follows him outside.

“Why did you do that?” she asks in a low voice. “Spare that miserable human? It will not sit well with the twins.”

“They are more than welcome to challenge me if they disapprove of my decision. Shovelling the City’s shit should keep the man busy and out of trouble. It’s not the pawns we need to permanently eliminate but the players, Kelenn. Let the twins watch him for a while if they must but they better keep their triggers secured.”

“Understood. What else, Captain?”

“I need a pair of watchful eyes on someone who may or may not need protection.”

“How watchful?”

“A shadow with a quick mind and good judgment. It’s concerning someone under the General’s command, someone who has the General’s full trust and is involved in projects of a confidential nature.”

“Male or female?”

“Male. Human. In a relationship with another male.”

“I see. Am I at liberty to choose or are there special requirements?”

“No requirements other than discretion and the ability to blend in.”

“Got it. I already have someone in mind. When may I present the candidate?”

“Three days from now. I will inform you of the General’s decision concerning his own situation, too.”

 

And who knows how that discussion will go. Presenting Hux with Kuirleng’s name should nudge Hux towards Kylo’s position where Hux’ safety is concerned but Kylo is not so sure about that. 

Hux can be very stubborn.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“You know what? I think you’re right.“

Ren lets out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you always have to—what?” He gives Hux a look so utterly gobsmacked it makes Hux laugh.

“What is it, Ren? I said you are right. Did you expect me to fight you tooth and nail over your suggestion?”

“I did, yes.” Ren leans back and crosses his long legs at the ankles. “I was mentally prepared for you to fling at least twenty-five reasons at me why the idea of a personal bodyguard is absurd, unnecessary and an invasion of your private space.”

“My private space.” Hux snorts. “There’s no such thing as private space in the military.”

“Come on, you did have your private quarters on the _Finalizer_ , didn’t you. On Starkiller, too.”

“I did, yes. Standard issue First Order quarters. Twenty-four seven availability included.”

“You never seemed to mind.”

“Would it have helped to complain? And to whom? I was a commanding officer, remember, and as such under the obligation to set a good example. This here,” he makes a gesture indicating their private section of the hotel suite, “is the most private I’ve been for longer than I care to remember. So no, having a personal bodyguard won’t invade anything. Unless you expect them to join me in the shower or stand guard over us in the bedroom.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Ren says dismissively. “As long as I am bodily around you, there is no need of an additional guard.”

“Bodily around me, eh.” Hux arches an eyebrow. “Make a note to yourself to explain that in more detail some time later tonight.”

Ren grins and Hux feels the corners of his mouth curve upwards, too. He wonders, not for the first time, how Snoke managed to push all of their buttons and lead them into bitter rivalry instead of moulding them into a team.

“May I make a suggestion?” he offers.

“Does that mean you’ve been thinking about it, too?”

“I have, yes,” Hux admits. “Before the, uh, incident at the durasteel factory I would have dismissed it as ridiculous but since then I’ve come to truly understand the difference of being in a position of power in the military and being a somewhat public figure in the civilian world. Although I’m not all that public yet, I think. I hope.”

“It’s more than not wearing a uniform any longer, isn’t it. Are you going to finish that?” Ren points at the vegetable dish sitting left of Hux’ plate.

“Yes. It’s taken me forever to tell the chef droid how I want it done and like hell I’m sharing it with you. Here, have that instead.” He pushes a fruit bowl in Ren’s direction. “These are good, too.”

Ren eyes the oblong, brownish-yellow fruit suspiciously.

“Do I peel them or what?”

“No, it’s all edible. Want me to cut them into small cubes and spoon-feed them to you?”

“Shut up.” He reaches for a piece, sniffs it and takes a tentative bite. His face lights up. “That’s pretty good.” He bites off a bigger chunk. “Excellent,” he says, his mouth full.

“Told you.” Hux watches Ren finish the fruit and reach for the next one and shakes his head. “It never ceases to amaze me just how much you can eat.”

“I had an intense workout session with Matt before coming here. Plus the one you gave me this morning, before you left.” He winks. “Can’t blame me for being hungry, mate,” he says in horrible imitation of Hux’ Naboo dialect and Hux snorts.

“Whatever, _mate_. Anyway, I was going to say that yes, I was aware of the situation being different but it’s only just sunk in how different it all really is. If it hadn’t been for Kelenn,” he shrugs a shoulder, “well, who knows how that would have ended.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were gone, Ren. And I had other things to do, too. So, a bodyguard. If I get to have a say in the matter—”

“Of course you do.” Ren shoots him a glance from under his lashes. “Kelenn happen to be your choice?”

“If you can spare her and if she is willing to give up her freedom for a permanent position then yes, I’d like to offer the post to her.”

“I guess it’s safe to assume she’ll be ready to accept. She’s dropped a hint when we spoke earlier.” The corners of Ren’s mouth twitch as if he thinks of something amusing. “I’d hate to see her leave my team but I agree, she’s the most obvious choice. Why waste time on parading candidates when there’s one who’s already proven herself? Just…what will the Council say when the Administrator hires an assassin to follow him wherever he goes?”

“I’m not interested in the Council’s opinion of Kelenn’s credentials nor do I need anybody’s approval where my personal safety is concerned, Ren. Have her come here at her earliest convenience so we can go through the details together but make sure you have a replacement before she moves on. Oh, and speaking of the Council, there is one I’d like you to, uhm, find out more about.”

“I’m listening.”

“Her name is Kuirleng and she’s the former treasurer.”

“Kuirleng?” Ren sits up straight and fixes Hux with an intent stare.

“Yes. You know her?”

“Her name was mentioned to me. Former treasurer, you say?”

“Yes.” Hux frowns. “In what respect was her name mentioned to you?”

“Later. Did you fire her?”

“I relieved her of her duties a couple of days before you left for Mustafar because I found out she’s been falsifying the City’s financial records for over a decade.”

“How?”

“Techie detected an irregularity in the budget system’s algorithm and I downloaded the reports in question. Spent some time crushing numbers and Techie counterchecked my findings with what he pulled up from the database, and it turns out that Kuirleng’s purse got a bit fatter over the years with the City’s figures appearing, well, uninspired, to say the least.”

“I see.” Ren purses his lips, taps his index finger against his mouth. “Techie, huh.”

“The man’s a genius, Ren. He’s become indispensable to me and if I could I’d house him here, along with Matt, and offer him an exclusive contract.”

“Why don’t you? I’ve been to see him at their quarters to drop off the data crystals and the chip. It’s little more than a furnished hole with hardly enough breathing space for two grown men.”

“It’s something he told me over dinner one night.”

“You had dinner with him?”

“We were working really late and Matt was on the night shift so I invited him to stay for a bite. He’s a good bloke, Ren, and I’ve come to like him. Like him a lot, actually. Maybe it’s the fact that we speak the same dialect or maybe it’s the hair colour, I don’t know, but I feel sort of responsible for him. Anyway, I understand he’s really, truly happy with Matt and it’s with him that he feels secure for the first time since his childhood. They’ve made their quarters their home and I don’t want to tear him away just because I can. It wouldn’t feel right, you know.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Ren says, making a small knife spin on the table. “When I went to see him he tried his best to appear calm but I could tell I was still making him nervous. It’s vastly improved since the first time I’ve seen him but there’s such fear ingrained in his system, such horrible fear, Hux, and I started to reach into his mind to find out about what’s eating at him.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t, or rather: I didn’t want to.” Ren huffs, gives a soft laugh. “What’s happening to us? You can’t bring yourself to evict one of your underlings from his shitty little hole and I can’t bring myself to sneak around some underling’s brain against his will.”

They look at each other.

“But I have an idea what’s behind it,” he says, reaches across the table, takes Hux’ hand and presses it. 

Hux nods. It’s what’s grown between them that’s causing the changes, there’s little doubt of that. 

“Just…is it a change for the better or the worse?” Hux asks, caressing Ren’s knuckles with his thumb. 

“If you ask me, it’s as if I’m finally in charge of which direction to choose. I feel…balanced. For the first time in my life, I reckon. And it makes me think twice before I take what’s not given freely.” Then he frowns. “But we got side-tracked. You fired that treasurer of yours.”

“That’s right. About time, too, and we’re looking at potential successors. But will you now tell me how you heard of her? And please don’t tell me you’ve memorised the Council members’ names. That’d be scary indeed.”

“Gods, no.” Ren gives Hux’ hand one last squeeze and reaches for another fruit. “It just so happens that her name came up when I was interrogating a prisoner.”

“What prisoner?”

“One of your would-be assailants survived your, uh, energetic resistance and has been enjoying the hospitality of my team ever since. I saw him today and the name Kuirleng escaped his lips after some encouragement.”

“Is that so.”

“Positive.”

“Well.” Hux sits back, stunned. Kuirleng has not hidden her disapproval of most of his decisions and has not particularly concealed her dislike for him but there’s others on the Council who seem to personally dislike him just as much and whom he dislikes in return, but he's come to an understanding with all of them where their work relationship is concerned. But to initiate an assassination attempt on his life…his people skills need some more polishing, that’s for certain.

“Well,” he says again. “I guess that answers the question of whether or not we will need an official Chief of Security.”

Ren groans. “I told you I neither need nor want a title.”

“Well, you don’t. But the City does. And a face to go with it.”

“You’re not turning me into a poster boy.”

“Don’t be absurd. I don’t expect you to prance about at social events in shiny robes, don’t worry. But we need to do this right if we want things to really change, Ren.”

Ren grunts but Hux continues, ignoring him. “The City Police have not done a very convincing job, have they, if all these petty criminals and organised groups were able to spread out like they did. Seems to me the reorganisation of the police force has just made it into the top five things to look into.” He sighs. “The City is well on the way to her former self, with profits steadily increasing and the hotels filling up with guests once more. There are plans to renovate and modernise the opera house, the Cloud Dance Restaurant will be re-opening this coming weekend, the Sky Centre Galeria is re-opening—” he checks the time, “—in one and a half standard hours with a semi-formal drink reception and the Art Museum is planning an exhibition on ‘Rim Art and its abominations’.”

“What the fuck is Rim Art?”

“It’s the take on Rim history, both outer and inner, and the impact of the Third Coming on the stability of its core,” Hux says in a nasal voice, fluttering his hands as he speaks.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“I shit you not. I spent an entire morning trapped in a conference room with the museum director and two very bejewelled Pantoran patrons. A daring exhibition such as this will expand the galaxy as we see it and will have society in awe for eons to come. Please do ask me about the Third Coming so I may share my newly acquired wisdom with you.”

Ren stares at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re having fun with all of this, aren’t you.”

“Discussing migraine art projects with exalted art lovers? No.”

“Bringing the City back to life is what I mean.”

Hux cocks his head, mulls this over. Ren is not entirely wrong.

“At first I was grateful to have something to do,” he admits. “Anything, really, after being left behind to die. I mean, seriously, what else is there for me to do outside the military? I know little else but the First Order.”

“You know some healing,” Ren points out.

“Putting a bandage on you and massaging your hand hardly qualifies as healing.”

“It did to me.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But no self-respecting healer or physician would take me on just because I know how to give hand massages. But when we arrived here and everybody thought we were the help they had sent for…well, there was a chance for me to prove myself, you know, start over. Getting things back into working order and pulling shit together after decades of neglect and ignorance requires strategic thinking and some understanding how a big organisation works, and the willingness to step forward and assume command. And that, I can do. Ser Te-Ohn helped me find my way around civilians and Il’Yask is a master micro organiser. And it’s all beginning to work nicely, isn’t it. So yes, I’m enjoying myself because I’ve come to understand that not all I’ve learnt has been for nothing just because the Supreme Leader has seen fit to ditch me. Us.”

“Mhm. So I take it you intend to stay here for a while?”

“Don’t you?”

Ren gives a non-committal shrug. “I’ll be where you are,” he says. “Wherever you decide to go.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. Where else would I want to be?”

It’s said in a matter of fact voice without a shadow of a doubt, and Hux feels heat rise up his neck. There’s nothing he can say, really, and so he gets up from his chair, walks around the table to cup Ren’s face with both hands and kisses him, hard, putting everything into the kiss he can’t bring himself to say yet. 

Ren pulls him into his lap and kisses him back.

“And I you,” he whispers, tightens his grip around Hux’ waist and his eyes are very bright as he says it. He blinks. “Hux?”

“Mhm?”

“I will eat the veggies if you don’t.”

 

****** 

 

“How are you going to sign the papers?” Ren asks as they step out of the lift. 

“With a pen, I presume.”

“No shit. I meant, with what name?”

“My name, of course.”

“Is that a smart idea?”

“Ren, please. I can’t very well sign an official document with ‘General’, can I?”

“No, but—”

He breaks off as they approach the main conference room. The doors are wide open and the murmuring of the Council members gathered inside pours out into the corridor. Ren gives a low groan and Hux grins.

“The complete rigmarole, Ren, robes, stamps, ceremonial chains and all. Did you not see the memo Il’Yask sent to our datapads?”

Ren mutters something under his breath but has his features under control the moment they walk into the room. The murmuring stops and the Council members take their seats, robes rustling and chains clinking. Only Ser Te-Ohn and the Guilds' grand masters remain standing in a row before the desks at the head of the U shape seating arrangement, as their signatures are required to validate the documents. 

Ser Te-Ohn comes forward to greet them.

“Welcome, General,” the Pau’an says in her melodic voice, “and welcome, No-One. It is my privilege to address you on behalf of the City Council whose members have requested me, on their behalf, to express our gratitude for the invaluable services rendered by both of you to our city and to express the hope that you will accept the offices of Chief Administrator and Chief of Security as offered to you.”

More of the same tenor is said with the grand masters each adding their piece and then it’s time to sign and make things official. The paperwork appointing them into their posts lies spread out on the polished desks, seven execution copies on heavy paper, City and Guild seals at the ready, the City notary stepping forward to witness the signing.

Hux takes out his pen, a rather old-fashioned fountain pen he’s found at the market and bought for special occasions, uncaps it and takes a deep breath. He’s about to commit himself here, is about to sign on for a post he’s not been trained for, a post he’s slipped into rather by accident and opportunism. Still, she’s become dear to him, this city in the clouds and all of her problems and challenges she’s presented him with over the past months, and so he puts his pen to paper to write a name he hasn’t written in a very, very long time and hopes he won’t slip while signing.

But he does not and steps back, pleased with himself and with what he sees before him.

 _Lorcan Dale,_ the signature reads, and _Chief Administrator_ says the title underneath it.

Ren picks up the pen that’s been placed on the desk and bends forward to sign his name. He pauses and turns to look at Hux.

 _::Says so on my birth certificate,::_ Hux sends through their link. He still finds it exceedingly difficult to communicate like that, thinking at Ren, but he’s slowly, slowly getting better at it.

Ren turns back to the documents, hesitates, then signs his name in bold strokes, seven times. When he’s finished, he straightens and steps back to stand next to Hux.

The signature next to his makes Hux’ heart skip a beat and he edges closer to Ren so that their shoulders touch.

 

 _Ben Solo, Chief of Security_.

 


	15. Chapter 15

The call connects almost immediately but he hears his father before he sees him. The visual transmission is blurred and Ben hears his father swear under his breath. Han Solo may be a good pilot and an even better smuggler but technology outside a cockpit is not one of his strengths.

“Can you hear me? Ben? Hello?”

“I’m here. What in the shadow’s name are you doing?”

“Your mother had a new holo system installed.” The screen stops flickering and Solo’s face comes into view. “Hello son.”

“Hi Dad. What’s that in your ear?”

“What…oh.” Solo fingers his earlobe. “It’s an ear stud.”

“So I see. Lost a bet or what?”

“Sort of.” He grins his crooked grin. “How did you ever guess?”

“Don’t know.” Ben grins back. “Let’s call it a hunch.”

“You always were a clever one. So, what’s this I hear about you being Security Chief?”

“Anything Uncle Lando does not know about?” Ben sighs. “Why do I even bother calling you? You know everything already.”

“I do not,” Solo says. “I know nothing about your, ah, life when you’re off duty. Like, are you still hanging out with that general of yours?”

“Dad, that general of mine is the City’s new Administrator and yes, we’re still hanging out. Nothing’s changed about it since the last time we spoke. He’s my, uh—”

“Lover?” his father suggests and Ben feels his ears grow hot.

“That, too. My partner, I was going to say. On duty and off duty.”

“Good. I’m happy to hear it. He seemed a good kid.”

Ben snorts. “Don’t let him hear that. He hates being called ‘kid’.”

“Really? But he is your age, isn’t he?”

“He’s almost five years older.”

“Well, that sure makes a difference.”

“He’s just not a kid person, Dad.”

Solo huffs. “If you say so. Listen, uhm, Lando tells me you signed the papers ‘Ben Solo’. Is that true?”

“It is, yes.”

“That means a lot to me, son.” There’s a slight tremble in his father’s voice and he clears his throat, trying to maintain his nonchalant appearance. Ben hides a smile. “Your mother, too, but she asked me to let you know it also worries her.”

“You think it’ll attract more attention than Kylo Ren? I think not. We were both a little hesitant about signing with our real names but in the end, what does it matter? Can’t hide forever.”

“Your general used a fake name, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t, no. He signed with the name that’s on his birth certificate. His father wiped everything pre-Academy off his records but he somehow forgot about the birth certificate. Lorcan Dale is Hux’ actual name but he never used it since being officially adopted.”

“Got it.” Solo taps his chin. “Dale,” he mutters, “Lorcan Dale. I think I’ve heard that name before.”

“You did?”

“Not sure, it’s just…it rings a bell. He a, uhm, freelancer, too?”

“A smuggler, you mean?”

“Listen, son—”

“Dad, please. I’m not eight anymore, okay? Anyway, I think the old Lorcan Dale was a healer of sorts. He was Hux’ granddad and pretty much his hero when he was little. I don’t know if he’s still alive and neither does Hux. He doesn’t speak about it much but I think he’s trying to find out.”

“You still call him Hux?”

“He’ll always be Hux to me, I guess.”

“What does he call you?”

“Arsehole,” Ben says, grinning, and his father guffaws. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m sorry but it’s funny. His granddad used to have a Wookiee around, yes?”

“I have no idea. Why are you asking?”

“It’s something Chewie mentioned after I dropped you guys off. Let me dig around in my memory, maybe I can come up with something. You think he’d like to find out about his granddad?”

“I do, yes.” He looks at his hands, fiddles with his thumbnail. “Say, Dad—”

“Yes?”

“Why exactly is Mom worried?”

“It’s like you said. She thinks it’ll attract attention, using your real name. If it hasn’t already done so.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m not sure. We’ve intercepted encrypted messages that we’re still trying to figure out. Also, there’s been rumours about a bunch of First Order vessels clustering in the Akuumyi sector.”

“What.”

“I know. You might want to check your defense systems, see if you’re battle-ready and if the City can be held in case of, well.” He clears his throat again. “But it’s not confirmed yet. There’s not been actual sightings. If only those kriffing messages weren’t so heavily encrypted.”

“Why don’t you send them over to us?” Ben suggests. “Hux used to be a First Order officer, maybe he has the key.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve changed the key since he was left behind. Neither of you are confirmed dead. Snoke would be stupid not to change the codes.”

“You’re probably right about that. Snoke’s a lot of things but he’s not stupid.”

“Agreed. Listen, I don’t know much about the Force and all that—” he makes a vague gesture, “—you know, stuff, but your mother does. She says your presence in the Force has changed.”

“In how far?”

“She says you’re clearly visible and very, uh, vibrant.”

“Vibrant,” Ben repeats, stunned.

“That’s the word she used. She says you’re full of light and full of dark, but it’s—” he frowns as if he’s trying to remember his wife’s exact words, “—intertwined, you know, like a tightly woven fabric. She says it’s all come together now instead of co-existing and it makes you shine brightly. So, if she’s noticed…” He falls silent.

“…Snoke will have noticed, too,” Ben finishes the sentence for him. “You know what, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. Something strange happened when Hux and I first—” he breaks off. No way is he going to tell his father about the first time he and Hux fucked, about their Force connection that he himself is only just figuring out. “Anyway, tell her I’ve been thinking about it, too, and if you find out more about the First Order ships, I’d much appreciate it if you’d let me know at once. And please do send those codes over to us. If Hux can’t crack them, we have someone who will.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“I—I can’t, Dad. Not yet.” 

He can’t face his mother yet. Too much has happened between them, too much that still hasn’t healed and although there’s things between him and his father that haven’t healed yet, either, it’s different. First and foremost, his father isn’t Force-sensitive. He’s grasped the basics over the years but he does not, cannot fully understand what the Force does to those who are thus gifted. Cursed. Whatever. And secondly, his father has done a few things in his early years (and his later years, too) that were not exactly…honourable, to put it mildly, though he’s done nothing even remotely in the range of what Kylo Ren’s done while Snoke had his claws in him. That will weigh forever on Ben’s conscience and can never be forgotten. Nor can it ever be atoned for. 

In any case, he and his father have found a place to start over and they’re getting closer again, slowly but steadily. Ben will not admit it out loud but he’s heartily glad of it, and grateful, too. He missed his father’s happy-go-lucky approach on things, even missed being called ‘kid’.

Solo smiles and nods. “I understand. She can be rather intimidating if she chooses to be.”

“It’s not that. It’s—oh fuck it. Yes, I’m nervous. I will talk to her, I promise, but not just quite yet. Let me figure a couple things out first, okay?”

“You do that, Ben. So, what else is new, now that you’re Security Chief?”

They chat for a while longer. Solo tells him Chewbacca is now the proud grandfather of very lively twins (“I swear he’s finally turning grey!”) and the Falcon needs a complete overhaul because there’s damage on her hull that looks untrustworthy even to him. Ben talks to him about how much he hates debates and politics and that Hux has accepted the need of a personal bodyguard without so much as raising an eyebrow. When they end their call, they’re both smiling.

Ben pulls up the files Techie has extracted from the data crystals and scrolls through the list of titles, most of which he can’t make sense of. Techie really is as good as Hux says and has managed to crack the encryption but most of what Ben looks at could well have stayed encrypted for all it’s worth. Vader was a lord of the Sith and an ambitious student of Sith lore, ancient and recent, whereas Ben’s knowledge of that subject is limited at best. Snoke never bothered to train him in either Sith or Jedi lore, saying both were dead and gone, having left nothing behind that’s not redundant. For a while, Kylo Ren tried to go behind his back, tried to find out nevertheless but it didn’t take Snoke long to sense his pupil’s disobedience and the excruciating pain his master subjected him to is something Ben is not likely to forget.

He pulls up the files on Force sensitivity and its variations and starts re-reading the passages he’s bookmarked. It’s not much but there’s lots of footnotes, more footnotes than there is text, and he reaches for a notepad and scribbles down the most promising source files. There’s mention of Force vessels and of anchoring, of stabilisers and balancers and counterweights, of how a non Force-sensitive being can attune themself to a Force-user in a way that serves as backbone, a stronghold to come home to, in a manner of speaking. Ben lowers his stylo and stares at what he’s written down. An anchor, something to hold him in place, something to stabilise him…isn’t that what he once told Hux? Calm to his chaos, an anchor to hold him in place? And when he thought he was lost, back on Mustafar, when the droid was coming at him, he regained his strength the moment he thought of Hux. Could it be that Hux is such a Force-partner to him? A…counterweight? But if so, how come this particular ability has never before been detected? Surely not all pairings of this kind come into being by physical intimacy. And how come Hux was unreadable before? Come to think of it, Ben doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen him in the Force but all beings are visible, one way or the other. Is it possible he’s always had some sort of protection mechanism to shield him from unwanted mindprobing? If so, was it installed by an outside influence or…has he taught himself how to do it? Has Snoke never noticed? Or was Hux, tested Force-insensitive, simply not worth looking into? Just another human to be used and discarded at will?

Whatever the reason, their connection is undeniable and it’s growing stronger each day. Already Hux is getting used to ‘thinking’ at Ben, as he calls it. Ben smiles when he thinks of how different Hux’ mindspeech is from his actual speech. His thoughts are no less sharp but his ‘voice’ is soft and his home dialect is even more pronounced. He doesn’t shield himself all the time anymore, doesn’t seem to mind having Ben inside his head any longer. Not that Ben ever enters his mind without asking for permission, it’s not what he does anymore and certainly not with Hux. Especially not with him.

Well, it doesn’t look as if he’s going to find a satisfying answer now. Might as well do something useful with his time and he checks his messages and his schedule. It’s taking some time getting used to, living by an organised schedule, and he’s not altogether happy with it. Luckily, Hux is good to his word and keeps the routine meetings away from him, only asks him to attend when his expertise and insight are needed. 

There’s nothing on his schedule for the rest of the evening. 

 _Excellent. Let’s go find Hux then._  

He pulls up the General’s schedule and blinks. Hux’ calendar looks like a child’s jigsaw puzzle and it makes no sense at all. Unless…oh. Of course. It’s colour-coded. In-house appointments are light blue. External appointments are dark blue. Breaks are green. Deadlines are red. Holo calls are purple. Ben rolls his eyes. Does Hux schedule his trips to the facilities, too? In what colour? Yellow? He sniggers. 

So where is he now? Here. Green. ‘ _Gym room 13.07. Pack nuns._ ’ 

Pack _what_? What in the name of all that’s ridiculous do nuns have to do with—

“I gotta see this.”

Ben changes into his workout clothes. So far he’s only once set foot in the hotel’s workout area and nearly doubled over laughing when he saw the weight room. But Hux likes to work out there because their cardio section is rather well equipped, and Ben knows Hux also appreciates the possibility of renting his private workout room where he can—well, whatever he does when he works out. 

Time to find out, and Ben still needs to take him up on that promised sparring, too, and so he turns back on his way to the lift and puts the three lightsabres into his gym bag, just in case.

 

The violet-skinned arachnid at the gym’s counter all but snaps to attention the moment they lay their eyes on him. All six eyes.

“Good evening, sir,” they greet him in a voice that’s unexpectedly melodic coming from a beak like that. Voice modulators are beautiful things indeed. “It is an honour to see you here. How may I be of service?”

“I’m looking for the General. I understand he’s in room thirteen oh seven?”

“Let me check.” The arachnid taps away on a hidden keyboard. “Here. Yes, sir, your information is correct. The General has booked room thirteen zero seven. Would you like me to announce you?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Just put me in the right direction, I’m not too familiar with the layout of this place.”

“Certainly.” 

The arachnid comes out from behind their cubicle. They tower over Ben and their name tag is now at eye level. _Krzzyllssu (‘Zyll’)_ it says.

“It’s down this corridor, then either the stairs or the lift upstairs to level one,” they point to where Ben needs to go. “Thirteen zero seven is in row three, seventh room on the left.”

“Got it. Thank you, Zyll.”

“Pleasure, Chief. Enjoy your workout.”

The private gym section vaguely resembles the endless corridors of the _Finalizer_. Not a sound can be heard from behind the nondescript doors. Soothing background music and tastefully arranged artwork makes it look less sterile but Ben prefers his gym where he can see and hear beings of all species, colours and shapes work out and share all sorts of weights, equipment and benches. Those who want music bring their music, those who rather hear their fellow athletes grunt and groan, don’t. Matt usually brings his music, Ben never does.

Here’s thirteen oh seven. Before he opens the door, Ben ‘listens’ with the Force. Hux’ signal feels relaxed but fully concentrated. Whatever he’s doing, he’s enjoying himself and Ben enters his security code to open the door, his security clearance overriding the gym-issued code. He slips inside, making himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Well, he tries anyway.

Hux is going through some sort of warm-up exercises. But not your ordinary stretching, no, that won’t do for the General. Rather, it’s a complicated-looking sequence of rapid kicks and punches, and just how wide can Hux spread his legs? Ben knows he’s flexible but up to now he’s had no idea Hux can—oh kriffing hell, this has got to hurt! Ben involuntarily cups his own balls in sympathy when Hux lands a jump in a perfect split but there’s no sign of pain on his face. He twists around, pushes himself up and with a smooth flip comes to land on his feet, does a few more vicious punches and ends by executing a neat little bow before an imaginary opponent, remains motionless for a few more heartbeats and only then acknowledges Ben’s presence.

“The hell you doing here?” he says in lieu of a greeting. “Can a man not train in peace?”

“I missed you too, darrrling,” Ben replies. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you spend your time off. Besides, you promised me a sparring, yes?”

“I did, didn’t I.” Hux walks to where he’s put his gym bag, takes out a towel and wipes a few non-existent drops of sweat off his face. “You want to spar now?”

“I’m here, am I not?” Ben says but remains where he is, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “But first, let me see what you can do.”

Hux turns around and stares at him. “You want me to…perform for you?” he asks, incredulous.

“Well, if you phrase it like that then yes. I want to see what I'm up against. I mean, your little display just now was pretty impressive. What was that, anyway? That’s what they teach you at the Academy?”

“It certainly is not. Too advanced for standard military training,” he says. “It’s called kata.”

“What’s a kata?”

“Kata, plural, are choreographed movement patterns.”

“What’s the use of that?”

“Perfecting your form.”

Ben lets his eyes travel along Hux’ body. Hux is wearing black; a very tight shirt moulded to his lean torso, displaying his sinewy frame to full advantage; a pair of loose pants accentuating his slim hips and long legs, and his ass— _nope, don’t think about his ass_.

“Nothing wrong with your form.”

“Not this form, Ren, but thanks nevertheless. Are you checking out my arse?”

“I am, yes.”

“You’re a perv, Ren,” Hux says. “What kind of sparring did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about swords or sticks or whatever you prefer. Real sparring, Hux.”

“Then stop looking at me like you’re ready to pounce.”

“But I am,” Ben defends himself. “I always want to pounce you. Can’t help it.”

Hux snorts but Ben sees the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Very well,” he says. “Want to see me do a kata with my nuns?”

Oh yeah, the _nuns_. “What are your nuns?”

“You’ll see.”

Hux throws his towel back and walks over to the opposite wall where he picks up a long staff.

“It’s a stick,” Ben says and Hux grins.

“Not just a stick.”

He walks to the centre of the room and holds the stick out before him, one fist facing up, the other down. He bows, offering the stick to another imaginary opponent, and what follows now has Ben’s mouth hang open—figuratively speaking—and his cock harden. Literally speaking.

It’s a mad dance of man and stick, that’s what it is. There’s spinning and whirling, the stick swooshes through the air and Hux swooshes with it, slams one end of the staff on the ground, leaps, kicks, turns, slams. Each move is carried out with precision, a rare treat to watch. Ben starts outlining a new workout schedule for himself because damn, he must take stretching more seriously if this is the kind of stuff that comes from it! He’ll ask Hux to teach him some of his tricks. Not the whole jumping and whirling thing, Ben is too heavy for that, but these kicks sure look impressive.

Suddenly Hux freezes and Ben starts, yanked out of his blissful reverie. Is anything wrong? He shifts, is about to get up when there’s a click and the staff separates into two halves. _What the—_? 

This time, it’s less acrobatics and more sword fighting. Lunch, parry, thrust. And again. Flawless synchronicity, not missing a single beat. An impressive display of economy of movement, and Ben itches to see Hux do that with two lightsabres. How come he never knew Hux could do stuff like that? How come he’s never thought to ask him? But then, the old Hux, the First Order-Hux, has never given the impression of being athletically inclined, pale and stick-up-the-ass officer that he was. But this Hux here…stars, he’s hot! Focussed. Quick. Dangerous. Possibly deadly. In short, utterly fuckable.

Another click. _The hell_? The two halves are now four halves. Four halves? _Seriously, Ben_. Four pieces, two of which are connected at one end by a short chain, and now it’s back to kicking and punching techniques. With these…things whirring about. How does he do that? It’s not as if he can invoke some kind Force shield around him, to prevent him from hitting himself. Ben sits, and watches.

“What _are_ these things?” he asks when Hux comes to a standstill, after he’s executed another neat bow before another imaginary opponent. “Where in the kronging world have you learnt to do that? And why did you never think to tell me about it?” He scrambles to his feet, feeling extraordinarily clumsy after what he’s just seen.

With maddening calm, Hux walks over to his gym bag, stows the stick-things away and pull out his towel. This time, it’s no imaginary sweat he wipes off his face. 

“It’s called karate,” he says, putting the towel around the back of his neck. “It’s an ancient form of martial arts, originally practised on Earth.”

“Earth?”

“Yes, Earth. Fath sector, Outer Rim Territories.”

“Oh, Urthha.”

“Correct. In any case, I saw a demo in a holo documentary on martial arts back when I was a teenager. Did some research, found a school where the basics were taught, signed on and got hooked. That’s really all there is to it.”

“That looked more than just basic, what you just did.”

“I’ve been training since I was fifteen. That’s almost twenty years of practice.”

“Wow,” Ben says, impressed. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t exactly advertise it.”

“You didn’t exactly advertise anything.”

“I thought it best to remain as private as possible.”

“And those things?” He motions with his chin to where the gym bag lies. “What are they?”

“They’re called nunchakus.” Hux gets the bag and pulls the sticks out. “You put them back together like this,” he demonstrates, “and if you want the staff rather than two short sticks, you thump the serrated edges together like so,” _thump_ , “and make sure the security mechanism locks into place. Then you have a good, solid staff.”

“Neat. May I?” Ben holds out his hand.

“Sure.”

He tries a few moves but the long staff, although perfectly balanced, feels unfamiliar in his hand and he doesn’t know how to lunge and spin without hitting anything. He gives up after a couple of rather uncoordinated thrusts and hands the staff back to Hux.

“You want to try these?” he suggests and takes out the two lightsabres from his own bag. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to give them to you but now that I’ve seen what you can do, man, it would be a sin not to let you try.”

Hux shoots him a surprised look. “Are these what I think they are?”

Ben nods. “I took them from the droid I encountered in Vader’s castle. I’ve tried them both, they’re fully functional with beautiful beams. The curved hilts take some getting used to but I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”

Hux hesitates, then puts the staff down and carefully takes one of the lightsabres, looks for and finds the activation switch and powers it up. The beam is beautiful, a pure white without even the hint of a flicker. Ben thinks of his own weapon with its unstable blade and wishes, not for the first time, he could think of a way of obtaining a new kyber crystal without actually having to go hunt for one. An artificial one is out of the question, however, and they’re even more unstable than the one he has now. So it’s either stick with the flickering or go find a new kyber crystal. He’s thought about keeping the droid’s weapons for himself but he’s grown used to having one with a crossguard and intends to stick with that design, and anyway, _damn_ , that lightsabre looks good on Hux who’s begun an experimental—what was that word? Oh, _kata_. Right. Ben crosses his arms and watches as Hux grows bolder as he familiarises himself with the weapon.

“Here,” he suggests when Hux slows down, “take the second one, too.”

He throws Hux the weapon who catches it and switches it on, takes a hesitant swing with one blade to the left, then with the other to the right.

“Whoa,” he breathes and turns to look at Ben. His eyes are very green and with his hair no longer slicked back, he looks very young. _Kid_ , Ben thinks and smiles.

“Good?” he asks.

“Gods, yes,” Hux says. “I had not expected them to be so beautifully balanced. I mean, it’s not exactly a blade, is it.” He walks into the centre of the room and rolls his shoulders. “This is going to be fun.”

It sure looks like it although Hux goes through the dual-wield kata considerably slower than he did with his nunchakus. Then again, these are lightsabres. Not getting shit right with one of these will cause a nasty burn. If you’re lucky.

But damn, Hux is beautiful to watch. Ben has never seen a sword drill like it before and he sits back down and enjoys the show. He’s not altogether sure wielding two weapons at once would be practical in a real battle but it sure looks spectacular. When the kata is finished and yes, another bow, Ben is almost disappointed. But only almost, and he jumps up and ignites his own weapon.

“That was nice,” he says. “Pretty and all.” He twirls the lightsabre. “You ready?”

“I am,” Hux replies and switches the laser beams off. “And you are. But we’re not.”

“What?”

“You’re experienced with lightsabres. I’m not. I’m a trained sword fighter. You’re not. I’m not particularly interested to find out the hard way what you can and cannot do. Neither am I interested in losing a limb because you parry the wrong way.” He hands the weapons to Ben. “Let’s use the sticks first, yes?”

Ben accepts the lightsabres and switches his weapon off, too. “That how you handle yourself in battle? ‘Let’s get to know each other first?’”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is hardly a real battle. We’re about to spar, yes?” He fetches his staff, separates the two halves and offers one to Ben. “Let me see how you handle yourself and we’ll take it from there. Yes?”

“All right,” Ben says, disappointed. “This is not going to turn into one of your nunchaku things suddenly? I’d hate to hit myself.”

“‘That how you handle yourself in battle?’” Hux says with a mocking undertone. “Don’t want to hit yourself, eh?” He feigns a thrust and Ben, misjudging his intention, jerks the wrong way.

“Ouch!”

“See why I didn’t want to use a laser sword?” Hux steps back and bows, holding the stick out to Ren, parallel to the floor, in a formal salute. “Ready when you are.”

Ben nods and gets into position.

Within minutes, he’s drenched in sweat while Hux looks too much like he’s having fun. Ben is beginning to fume. This is not sparring. It’s…degrading. Hux keeps dancing out of Ben’s reach, lunges, parries, attacks at impossible angles and with annoying speed. He’s not even breathing hard. 

Soon Ben feels the all too familiar wrath boil up inside of him and he clenches his teeth, not wanting to give in to temptation.

 _Whack_.

“Focus!”

Ben twists out of the way and the stick misses its target. Barely. He growls and takes a swing, catches Hux’ hip.

“Ha.”

Hux narrows his eyes, ducks away and under, rolls off his left shoulder and jumps to his feet.

 _Whack_.

Where…fuck! 

 _Whack_.

“Careful, Ren.”

For fuck’s sakes—

_Swoosh. Whack._

Ben roars his rage and puts more force into his movements. He lands a blow on Hux’ left arm and another on his flank. Hux hisses but parries with lightning speed, dodges the next blow, blocks and counterattacks, catches Ben’s stick and with a vicious twist yanks it out of his hand.

“What the—”

A blow to his thigh, another into the back of his knees and Ben crashes to the ground, falls like a log, too surprised to catch himself. His rage burns white-hot inside of him. That’s not sparring. That’s not fighting. This is nonsensical, pointless dancing about. This is—

Hux kneels above him, one knee on Ben’s chest, his stick across Ben’s throat.

“Got you,” he says smugly.

_Oh no you don’t._

Ben reaches inside without thinking and pushes Hux off his chest, using not only his physical strength which is far superior to that of Hux but adds a Force push for emphasis, to get his point across. Because fighting is not just dancing about, right? It’s strength and playing dirty,  it’s win or lose, kill or be killed, is it not? And so he Force-pushes, and Hux flies off him, flies across the room, crashes into the wall with a sickening _thud_ and lands on the floor.

After a brief moment of triumph— _that’ll teach you, General_ —Ben pushes himself up on his elbows.

“Hux?”

No reply.

“Hux, come on, I didn’t push that hard.”

Still, nothing.

Ben scrambles to his feet.

“Hux?”

He lies very still, Hux does. Ben’s anger leaves his body in an instant and he crosses the short distance with too long strides, almost falls over his own feet and lands on his knees next to Hux.

“Hux. Lorcan. Oh fucking hell.” 

He sits back on his heels, looks at the still form lying before him, tries not to panic. 

What has he done now?

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Holy kriffing shit, that seriously hurt. 

Hux runs an internal check and blinks his eyes open when he’s convinced himself no serious harm has come to him. Ren kneels next to him on the floor, his face a mixture of worry and bad conscience. A very bad conscience. Worried on the brink of panic.

“Lorcan! Gods, I’m glad.” He bends over Hux and kisses his forehead. “You had me really scared! Can you sit?”

“I think so.” 

With Ren’s help (which is unnecessary because Hux is damn well able to sit up himself, thank you very much, but on second thought…let’s have the big git suffer for a little while longer) he comes into a sitting position. Ren’s dismay is almost comical and if Hux’ body didn’t feel like a giant bruise (and will in all likelihood look like one tomorrow, thank you even more), he’d laugh. Instead, he scowls. 

“The fuck you think you were doing? Didn’t I explicitly ask you to not do that?”

“I’m so sorry,” Ren says, his eyes lowered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Your pride and your fucking temper did,” Hux says sternly. “Stars, you really need to get that under control, Ben.”

“I know, and I’m really—what did you just say?”

“I said you needed to get your temper under your control.”

“No, not that.” Ren blinks and smiles a smile so wide it could light up an entire spaceship. “You called me Ben.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, _Ben_ , you still need to get a grip on yourself. Now help me get up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He accepts Ren’s hand who hauls him up. “Yeah, dislocate my shoulder, won’t you. Damn, you are too strong for your own good.” Ren has the grace to look embarrassed and now Hux does laugh. “I’m still alive, am I not? I’ll be black and blue tomorrow and my wrist will probably swell up a little but it’s nothing a decent chiromed can’t fix. Look, nothing broken.” He takes up a fighting stance and executes a brief slow motion sequence. “You can make up for it later.”

Ren gives him a surprised look. “Seriously?”

“Consider it an exercise in patience.”

“I will not fail you this time,” Ren says earnestly, making Hux laugh again. Ren gives him a hurt look and Hux pulls him in for a kiss.

“Here,” he says. “I’m not cross with you. Not much, anyway. Maybe, if the walls weren’t padded,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “but they are. But you must promise me—” A crazy, absurd thought enters his brain and he shakes his head. No, out of the question. That’s just too ridiculous. Surely that’s not possible. Or is it?

“Hux? What’s the matter?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re squinting at me.”

Hux blinks. What if—

“Push me,” he says.

“What?”

“Push me,” he repeats, a little impatiently. 

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Ren frowns but gives him a careful push.

“No, not like that. Use the Force.”

“What?” Ren looks at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“You heard me. Only—” he places a hand on Ren’s arm. “Don’t make me fly across the room again. Give me a gentle push, like you just did with your hand. Come on now,” he encourages when he sees Ren hesitate.

Ren pushes but it’s over too quickly.

“Again,” he says. “Harder.”

“Hux, listen—” Ren begins but Hux shakes his head stubbornly.

“Please, Ben. Just humour me. I have an idea. Please.”

Ren Force-pushes, harder this time. _There_. Hux can see the push. It’s like a rush of red coming at him through their connection and he ‘steps’ aside, reaches for it and holds on. Ren’s eyes widen.

“How did you—”

“Again.”

This time, Ren puts some more power into his push and Hux reaches out, gets a grip and yanks. Ren loses his balance, staggers forward and has to reach for Hux’ shoulders to steady himself, his fingers closing around the exact spot that is the most tender. Hux winces and Ren immediately lets go.

“What was that?”

“I’m using your strength to my advantage,” Hux says, smug despite the pain. “I can see it when you direct the Force towards me.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s like a force field coming at me. You know, like an energy wave or something.”

“You can actually see it?”

“Well, not really ‘see’, as with my eyes, it’s rather, uhm,” he searches for a word to best describe it, “I can sort of feel it. It’s like when you think at me. I can hear your voice even if you don’t actually speak. Know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Ren slowly says. “I know exactly what you mean. That’s what it feels like for me when I’m around other Force users. But you’re not—” he breaks off and stares into the distance. “Well, fuck me sideways,” he says. “So maybe it’s true after all.”

“What is?”

“It’s something I read in Vader’s files, well, in the bits that made sense.”

“What does it say?” Hux asks.

“I’ll show you when we’re home. It’s too complicated to explain.”

“Try me.” Now he’s curious.

“For how much longer have you rented this room?”

“What—oh, you’re right.” Hux checks the time on the clock above the door. “Ten more minutes.”

“Not enough. Will you let me try something?”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Stars, no. I think there’s been enough of that.”

“Thank you for agreeing.”

Ren grins. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better be.”

This time, there is nothing hitting him. Rather, it’s like Ren’s taking his hand, infusing him with...warmth. Yes, it feels warm, whatever he sends through.

“You see that?” Ren asks and Hux nods.

“I do, yes. It feels warm, too.”

“It does?” There’s surprise in Ren’s voice. “I don’t feel anything. It’s just there.”

“It’s definitely warm.” 

Hux closes his eyes, concentrates, tries to direct some of the warmth back to Ren, to show him. He hears a sharp intake of breath and opens his eyes. Ren stares at him.

“How do you do that?”

“Just as I did a couple of minutes ago. I sort of tap into it, I guess, and take it and use it.”

“But you can’t do it alone.”

“No. It’s like I told you. I can’t move things around and I can’t hear anybody’s thoughts. It only works with you, and through you.”

“Mhm.” 

Ren pulls his lower lip between his teeth, the way he sometimes does when he’s in deep thought. Hux’ gaze is automatically drawn to Ren’s mouth because he, too, likes to lick and nibble Ren’s full lips. Ren stops what he’s doing and the tips of his ears turn pink. 

“Stop it,” he says. “Don’t think about stuff like that now. I find it distracting when you do that.”

“You do? And how do you think all this Force-stuff makes me feel?”

“Yeah, well, I know, but I’m really not used to being—” he looks away but Hux still catches what’s left unsaid. _Not used to being wanted like that._

“But I do, Ben,” Hux softly says. “I may have omitted to tell you but I do.”

Ren clears his throat, shuffles his feet. Now it’s Hux who looks down, feeling caught red-handed in an emotional outburst.

“But this is not the time,” he says. “What is it you want to show me?”

Ren gives him a grateful look. “How much do you hurt?” 

“What?”

“Do you think you’re still in any sparring shape?”

“I think I am, yes. Why, what do you want me to do?”

“Not one of your katas. Just…are you up for an experiment?”

“You are making me nervous.”

“Will you trust me this once?”

“I do trust you. But please, don’t lose your shit again.”

“I won’t. Now. Pay attention. Both sets of eyes.”

Hux frowns but does as he’s bid. He ‘watches’ as Ren feeds their connection with more of that strange warmth until it’s like an extra layer slightly above floor level. Ren jumps on it, holds out his hand.

“Come,” he says.

Hux eyes the immaterial surface.

“Do you think it’ll hold?”

“It holds me,” Ren says and motions with his hand. “You made me lose my balance only a few moments ago, remember? You know how to reach for it and hold on to it, too. Come,” he says again. “Trust me.”

Hux looks up into Ren’s dark eyes and it’s in that very instant that he realises yes, he trusts the man, temper or not. And not only does he trust him, he’s come to—

He takes heart and he takes Ren’s hand, and he jumps up. It holds. It’s like a solid floor underneath his feet.

“Wow,” he says. “So that’s how you do it?” He bounces experimentally, carefully. It’s just like standing on solid ground.

“Watch out,” Ren says and now they’re higher above the floor. “See how it moves? And yet you don’t feel like we’re moving?”

“I feel like I’m moving, thank you very much.” Hux spreads his arms for balance, just in case.

“But does it feel unstable?”

“No. It’s like standing on a table that floats through the air.”

“Unless I do that.” Ren holds out his hands and after the tiniest of struggles with his pride, Hux takes Ren’s hands and holds on. The floor gives but it feels…elastic. Like a tautly stretched fabric. Some sort of trampoline. In any case, there’s no crash-landing.

They beam at each other.

“You realise what this means?” asks Ren and Hux, at the same time, “Just think what we can do with that!”

“I’m going to block us a training room for each day, starting tomorrow,” Hux says and Ren nods, bringing them back to floor level.

“And add some extra time so you can show me how to stretch properly.”

Hux raises his eyebrows and Ren pfffs.

“Not that kind of stretching, smartass. I mean muscles and all.”

“As do I.”

“Aren’t you hurting enough?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I promised to be gentle.”

“And I will hold you to that. Now, assuming you were talking about combat-related flexibility then yes, of course I can show you an effective warm-up routine. And if you will allow me, then I’ll also teach you the basics of sword fighting. There are better ways to parry and more effective ways to block and thrust.”

The door slides open before Ren can answer and a vaguely humanoid-shaped droid appears.

“Begging the gentlebeings’ pardon but room thirteen zero seven must be vacated for the next athlete within twelve point twenty-three standard minutes.”

“Understood,” Hux says but Ren snaps at the droid,

“Are you aware that you are speaking to the Chief Administrator? He will vacate this room when he is damn well ready and the next guest will wait for him to finish. Is that clear?”

Hux inwardly groans and the droid visibly stiffens, somehow managing to convey both discomfort and disapproval despite its less than expressive features.

“It is with deep regret that I have to disagree but we make it our business to not differentiate between our customers. All athletes are equally welcome, no matter their hierarchical standing.”

“And we shall keep it that way.” Hux places a hand on Ren’s arm and gives him a warning squeeze. 

 _::Leave it::_ , he says. 

Ren turns to look at him, his eyes sparkling with indignation. 

_Not another temper tantrum, please, Ren._

_::I’m not up for that now. Let’s just go. What I dearly want is a shower and an ice pack. And you, Ben,::_ he adds on an impulse.

His words work wonders. Ren’s eyes soften and he nods.

“Leave us,” he says curtly. “We’ll be out of here in a moment.”

“Very well, sir,” the droid replies. “I’ll return in seven minutes.”

“You do that,” Hux cuts in before Ren has the chance to say anything else. “We’ll be gone in three.”

He zips up his gym bag and sits down on the low bench to pull on his shoes, then reaches for his light jacket. He winces when he gets up.

“Reminder for tomorrow oh-seven-thirty to text Il’Yask for a chiromed appointment,” he says into his communicator, then looks at Ren. “Ready?”

“Yes.” 

 

They reach their suite relatively unhindered. Those who dare approach them receive a glare from Ren that makes them withdraw with mumbled excuses. Hux only stops once to exchange a few sentences with a member of the Miners’ Guild who has lost his life partner to a fatal disease only last week, encouraging him to take the time he needs.

That, too, is something he’s learnt. Acknowledge the fact that the beings he works with have lives off-duty. His former staff would have difficulties recognising their general and from the look Ren gives him, he agrees, and approves. They’ve both changed.

 

Inside their quarters, Hux carefully stores his nunchakus away, sheds his clothes and pads over to his bathroom, naked, too tired and in too much pain to care. He checks himself in the waist-length mirror, inspects the bruises that are beginning to form and winces when he touches his left shoulder. His wrist, too. He’ll need an ice pack for that. And his knee.

Behind him, Ren appears.

“You look horrible,” he states, unties his hair and places the rubber band on the small shelf that holds Hux' body care products.

“Thanks. And whose fault is that?”

“You know I’m sorry.” He bends his head to kiss Hux’ shoulder. “Don’t have to rub it in until the end of our days.”

“I couldn’t resist.” He leans back, reaches for Ren’s hands and wraps himself in Ren’s arms and looks at their reflection in the mirror. Everything about Ren is larger than life, his thick arms, his broad shoulders, his chest, his cock, his ears, his hair, his temper. Ren is so ridiculously huge that Hux could wear him like a coat and feel warm and protected.  

And isn’t that the stupidest thought ever.

“I need a shower,” he says abruptly and leaves Ren’s embrace, steps into the fresher and turns the water on. No need to wait for it to reach the desired temperature, another convenience of the Presidential Suite apart from the outstanding room service. He activates the lateral jet streams and enjoys the feeling of warm water massaging his aching body from all sides. If only—

“Won’t you join me?” he asks over his shoulders, reaching for his body-wash. 

Ren stands outside, looking undecided.

“For a moment I thought you didn’t want me here,” he says.

“Nonsense.” Hux holds out his hand. “I learn something new about myself each moment I spend with you. Not every insight comes easy. Come here,” he says. “Please.”

Ren joins him in the shower, takes his body-wash from him and squeezes some on his hands. 

“Let me,” he says and starts soaping Hux up, washes his hair, his chest, his armpits, his cock, balls, arse, his feet; he caresses and massages him, rubs his aching back and shoulders, brushes his lips across Hux’ neck and throat, tends to Hux' body with the gentle tenderness of someone secure in his own strength, someone who does not feel the necessity to prove himself over and over. Furthermore, he does all that he does without being blatantly sexual about it despite his soft kisses and caresses, doesn’t turn it into foreplay the way they usually do when they share a shower and so turns it into something infinitely more intimate than everything they’ve done together and to each other.

And when it comes again, that strange, unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling of being protected, Hux lets it happen, leans back against the wall and obediently lifts his left leg, then his right when Ren commands him and looks down at the man who kneels before him, looks at him through half-closed eyes.

“Take me to bed,” he says. “I need you.”

Ren looks up at him, kisses his left knee and rises.

“Are you sure? I thought you wanted an ice pack?”

“Later. I want you more than an ice pack. Just, no acrobatics, all right?”

“Let me handle this,” Ren says and kisses the corners of his eyes. “I’ll take good care of you.”

 

And he does, take good care of Hux. Takes excellent care of him, that is. All that’s expected of Hux is to lie back and enjoy.

“Everything about you is so beautiful,” Ren murmurs against his skin as he slides down, “so elegant. There’s not an inch of you that is not perfect.”

Then he doesn’t say anything for a long while but he doesn’t need to. Hux hears him loud and clear. _And I you_ , he thinks. 

 _I love you, too_.

 

Afterwards, Ren fetches something to eat for them and returns to bed with a tray that’s laden with an assortment of fruit, cheese, biscuits and sandwiches. And two bottles of a dark red wine they both like, and two glasses. He places the tray in the middle of his bed, pours them a glass each, puts the bottles on the bedside table closest to him and comes back to bed. 

“Feed me,” Hux says and stretches lazily. “I’m too knackered to move.”

“Lazy is what you are.”

“Feed me, serf.”

Ren snorts but tears off one of the red grapes, puts it between his teeth and bends down to offer it to Hux who smiles and pulls him closer to take the grape from him with his lips.

“Good boy,” he approves. “I see you’re catching on quickly.” With a groan he comes into a half-sitting position and holds out his hand. “Wine.”

The wine glass floats through the air and hovers before him. 

“Lazy is what _you_ are, serf.”

The glass floats out of his reach.

“You’re an arse, Ren. Give it.”

“Say please.”

“Security catch-up at ten sharp tomorrow. I expect to see you.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s called negotiating. Wine or meeting.”

“Fuck off.”

“Have it your way. Meeting room six-eleven.”

Ren offers him the wine.

“Must you always play hard to get?” Hux swirls the red liquid in its glass, sniffs and takes a sip. _Good_.

“Only when you’re being difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I’m collecting my dues.” He selects a sandwich and bites off a corner. “You know,” he says, chewing, “you make excellent sandwiches.”

“I’m planning ahead.”

“For what?”

“For—” Ren takes a gulp, “for when this all goes to shits.”

“What? This here?”

Ren shrugs. “Who knows what’ll happen.”

Hux narrows his eyes and puts sandwich and wine aside.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“I was talking to my father before I came to see you.”

“And?”

“He said there’s rumours of First Order ships gathering in the Akuumyi sector.”

“What?” Hux sits bolt upright. “Say again.”

“The Akuumyi sector. Dad says there’s not been actual sightings but they’ve intercepted a number of encrypted messages.”

“And when exactly did you plan to tell me?”

“I wanted to tell you before asking you to spar but then I saw you and you looked kinda hot and then it all happened and—”

“Don’t give me that hurt look, Ben.” Hux reaches for Ren and caresses his cheek with his knuckles. “You’re making me feel like I’m kicking a puppy. It’s just, well, it’s not good news.”

“It’s not, is it.”

They look at each other. No mind-speech necessary to hear the other’s thoughts. 

_So this is it then. It’s been going too well for too long._

“What do the messages say?”

“Dad says they’ve not yet been able to crack the code.”

“Well, have him send them to me.”

“Don’t you think Snoke will have had the code key changed by now?”

“In all probability, yes. But,” he arches a brow, “who do you think wrote the algorithms the key is based on?”

“You did?” 

“I did indeed, and I thank you for not giving me this look of utter disbelief. I’m not exactly stupid.”

“I had no idea you can do shit like that. No wonder you and Techie get along so well.”

“Well, he’s a lot more tech-savvy than I am.”

“No way,” Ren says, grinning, and chews noisily on a biscuit. “Don’t tell me you admit to the possibility of someone outsmarting you.”

“I’m not saying he’s outsmarting me. I’m saying he’s the better programmer by far and he knows a lot more systems than I do. In any case, I wrote the algorithms and unless there’s been a massive change to how the First Order works, they’ve changed the key but not the programming. Large organisations take their sweet time adapting to changes.” He reaches for his sandwich and bites off another corner. “You know, I’d go advertising your sandwich-making abilities if that didn’t invite for possibilities to tear you from my side.”

“Nonsense. Nothing will tear me from your side,” Ren says matter-of-factly. “We belong together, you and I. Nothing’s going to change that.”

There’s not the hint of doubt in his voice and Hux swallows around the lump that’s formed in his throat. He lowers the sandwich and puts it back on the tray, not hungry anymore.

“Ben,” he starts but Ren places a finger on his lips.

“I know,” he says. “I heard you.”

Hux nods, catches his hand and kisses his fingertips. “How about you?”

“Same. For a long time.” He looks at their entwined fingers. “And it’s only getting stronger.” 

They fall silent, each lost in his thoughts. Hux doesn’t know about Ren, but his mind is a mess. This is getting out of hand, this is. It’s not what he’s signed on for, not at all what he’s expected. Something so strong has never occurred to him, not in his wildest dreams, not in his loneliest of moments. It’s not something he’s ever wanted, an attachment like this. And yet, here they are and Hux cannot imagine his life without Ren in it.

“The messages,” he finally says, saving himself into more familiar territory. “Will you tell your father to send them to me?”

“He may have already done so,” Ren replies and he, too, is looking grateful for the opportunity to talk about something they’re both familiar with. “I suggested as much when we spoke. Want me to fetch my datapad?”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

The datapad comes flying through the open bedroom door and Ren switches it on, scrolls through his messages, clicks one open and grins.

“There,” he says, handing it to Hux. “Dad sends his love.”

With raised eyebrows, Hux accepts the datapad.

‘ _Hi Ben_ ,’ the opening message reads, ‘ _as promised. Took me a while to convince you-know-who but here is a little something to keep your  general busy._ ’

“‘Your general’, huh.” Hux looks up. “That’s what he calls me?”

“He actually calls you ‘kid’ but I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“And you’re right about that.” He opens the first attachment, studies it and frowns. “They’ve changed the code but I think…” He snorts when he recognises the pattern and permits himself an actual eye-roll for the sheer lack of creativity. “They’ve not even bothered to apply a new key. They’re using the old key, only backwards. Let me get my datapad. I have a converter on it. Forward the message to me while I go get it.”

“Let me—”

“Nope. It’s locked away and unless you know both codes for my personal safe you won’t be able to open the door. Unless you force it open or rip the safe off the wall and I thank you for not doing that.”

He walks over to his office, retrieves his datapad and his paper notebook and pen and hurries back into the bedroom, crawls into their warm nest and opens his messages. 

“Oh,” he says after he’s sent the message through the converter, and “kriffing buggering fuckers,” scribbles down some coordinates and names and lets loose a stream of words he’s not used in a long time and in a harsh variation of his otherwise soft home dialect.

“What?” Ren asks.

With a groan, Hux turns the datapad for Ren to see. Ren’s eyes widen.

“How well do you reckon is the City able to defend herself?” Hux asks.

“We have no standing troops, if that’s what you mean. I’ve barely begun to get the lame-ass City Guard back on their toes.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

 _What now_ , Hux thinks. _Holy shit, what now_.

Ren clears his throat, fidgets, plucks at the seam of the expensive bedsheet, clears his throat again.

“I know someone who might be able to help. It’s just…I…uh—”

Hux reaches for his hand, frees the sheet.

“I know,” he says. “If you allow, I will speak to her.”

 

Less than fifteen standard minutes later, he sits before the holo system, smoothes his jacket which doesn’t need smoothing, combs back his hair with his hands, wishing he’d have taken those two extra minutes, and waits for the call to connect. 

The face of a young female human appears.

“Greetings,” he says. “This is Chief Administrator Lorcan Dale of Cloud City requesting to speak with General Leia Organa.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Ben paces back and forth, back and forth. Stops, strains his ears, barely stops himself from pressing his ears against Hux’ office door. What in the world can they be talking about? The call’s been on for at least thirty standard minutes. Or has Hux been put on hold? Put through to an underling to stall for time, maybe?

The temptation to sneak into Hux’ mind is overwhelming but he’s not been invited to eavesdrop and so he won’t. But it’s hard. Damn hard. And so he paces. Drops down for ten-twelve-fifteen-eighteen diamond push-ups.

_And I you. I love you, too._

_Thud_. His body tension leaves him and he falls flat on his chest, closes his eyes and replays the words over and over in his head. _I love you, too_. Hux hasn’t said it. Neither has he. But he knows he’s thought it when he swallowed Hux whole, and he knows Hux has thought it, too. They hear each other even when they’re not consciously communicating. What is this crazy intense bond they share? Speaking of which, he still owes Hux an explanation. But how can he explain something to Hux that he doesn’t understand either? It sort of got pushed into the background anyway, what with the love-making and crisis-discussions. 

There. There’s that word again. _Love_. Is it? And if not, what else? So that’s what it feels like? Isn’t it supposed to be all lovey-dovey and pining? Public displays of affection, pet names and stolen kisses? Instead, there’s ‘nothing will tear me away from your side’ and ‘I’ll be where you are’, there’s bantering and bickering, there’s haughty eyebrows and whiplash consonants (‘you did whattt, Ren?’). But there is also—

“May I ask what you’re doing on the floor?”

—embarrassment.

“Thinking. Meditating. I was thinking of how to best apply what we experimented on earlier.”

He hastily gets up and finds himself eye to eye with Hux. Sometimes he forgets just how tall Hux is. They’re about the same height, with Ben being a finger’s breadth taller, if at all. It’s just that Hux is so damn slender—

“Huh. With your nose pressed to the rug. Suit yourself.” Hux motions over his shoulder. “Your mother wants to speak with you. You up for that?”

“I, uhm, what does she want to talk about?”

“I have no idea. But what I do know is this: no need to be nervous, Ben. Your mother is a great woman.”

His eyes light up when he says it and Ben inwardly groans. So Hux, too, has fallen under the spell of Her Former Majesty. 

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters but lets himself be pushed towards the door. “She’s not your mother.”

“No she’s not,” Hux agrees and kisses his cheek. “Off you go now, lad. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

 _Lad_. It makes Ben laugh, despite all, and he’s still smiling when he walks into the office. 

His mother looks up from whatever she’s studying and fixes him with a stern look. At least, that’s what he thinks it is and he stands frozen to the floor. Then he notices something strange. Her features are stern but her eyes are smiling. They have the same eyes, his mother and he, his father has said so again and again, and thinking of his father rekindles the smile that’s begun to give way to nervousness.

“Hello mother,” he carefully says.

She cocks her head and scans him from head to toe. Well, from head to mid-thigh, to be precise. Hux has activated the desktop holo, not the conference system. He remembers he’s barefoot and sits down which is ridiculous, really, for his mother won’t be able to see his feet, no matter whether he’s standing or sitting. Besides, she’s his mother and his feet shouldn’t be—ah, drat. He’s working himself into a nervous fit.

“‘Mother’”, she repeats. “Why so formal, Ben?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it. Not sure if we’re still on ‘Mom’ terms.” It comes out more brattish than he has intended but one look from Leia Organa and he feels like a ten-year-old.

He bites his lips. Hers quiver.

“I just had a very interesting conversation with Administrator Dale,” she says. “And I must say, I’m not unimpressed. You probably know that Cloud City has a certain sentimental value to me. There’s memories both good and unpleasant but what happened after the fall of the Empire was a disgrace. It’s good to see the City restored. The Administrator is a man of exceptional thinking and I very much like his direct approach. Doesn’t waste time on niceties and comes straight to the point. I like that, too.”

For the second time this day, Ben feels his mouth hang open—figuratively speaking—and he clears his throat.

“But Mom,” he says and sees her smile before he realises what he’s just said, “you know who he is, right?”

“He looks vaguely familiar and I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him before. Hair like that is hard to forget. Pity I can’t seem to place him.”

“He’s—”

“On second thought,” she taps her finger against her lips, “he does remind me of that First Order officer who’s been left behind to die on the planet they called Starkiller Base. If my memory serves me right, he died there along with Kylo Ren. Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t he fall into disgrace when that so-called superweapon of his did not ignite?”

Now Ben’s mouth does hang open. 

“I should have liked seeing them both put to trial but,” she shrugs, “what can you do. What’s done is done. Now, Ben, I hope I’m not overstepping a line if I say you’re looking well, and I’m happy for it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he says, a little awkwardly. “You’re looking good, too.”

And she does. She looks every inch the royal princess she once was. Her hair is done up, she’s wearing discreet but elegant jewellery and from what he can see, she’s wearing a long dress.

“Have we caught you at a bad time?” he asks.

“Yes and no. I’m supposed to be at a reception but I’ll just be a little late. Your father will drink my welcome cocktail along with his, I suppose.”

“Oh no, you’re making him attend a reception?” 

“It’s for sending encrypted messages to Hu—Dale without telling me.” She gives him a searching look. “You look happy. Are you happy?”

“Yes and no. Yes, I’m happy with how everything has turned out. No, I’m not happy with what I think is coming. I’ve sensed it for a while but I refused to acknowledge it for what it was.”

“How come? You used to be keenly aware of your surroundings.”

“I was busy adapting, I guess.” He huffs out a laugh. “Busy learning to be my own master. It’s more difficult than one might think. Also, there’s, uh, well, you see, Hux, I mean the General, Lorcan, I mean, ah krong it. What I mean is that the Chief Administrator is now my partner. On duty, obviously, but also off duty. We’re, uh, we’re together. Sort of. And it’s strange, being with someone like that. In a…relationship, I mean.” He clears his throat, unclasps his hands he’s not noticed he’s clasped. “So yeah, I may have been a little distracted.”

“But are you comfortable being with him?”

“I am, yes. Although it’s not always easy. He’s so very different from me, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Your father and I are not exactly alike, either.” True, that. “But is it good different or bad?”

“Good. Mostly. He complements me, I guess.”

“He does. It shows in the Force, too,” she smiles. Then she gets serious, changes from mother to general in the blink of an eye. “Ben, listen. Dale has provided me with the key to decode the First Order’s messages and has offered to make himself available for an extensive strategy meeting. I understand he has exceptional insight into the First Order’s structure.”

“He does indeed.”

“We’ve come to an understanding, Dale and I. For the time being, it shall remain a verbal agreement but we will meet for formal negotiations as soon as the current situation allows.”

“What have you agreed on?”

“He will be our chief advisor in all matters concerning the First Order, the focus being on their military strategies, arms and manpower. In return, I have offered to deploy sufficient forces to help defend the City, if need be. We have scheduled a call for oh three hundred standard time for him to meet our command crew, to go through the intercepted messages and discuss the next steps. I’d like to see you there, too.”

That’s in about six hours from now. Time enough to finish eating and get some sleep. And then some, if Hux is amenable.

“I will be there,” he promises. 

“Good. I’m glad. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a husband to save.” She grins, not at all princess-like, and suddenly looks very young. 

Ben grins back. “What do you say if we speak some other time,” he suggests. “To catch up and talk. If you want, and if you have time,” he quickly adds.

“I would like that,” she softly says. “I think we have a lot to talk about, you and I.”

Ben nods and they end the call. He leans back in the chair, stares at the opposite wall. Could it be his mother has forgiven him? Or if not entirely forgiven, is she willing for them to start over? Can she really ignore what’s happened, push it aside and focus on what lies ahead? Can one forgive what one’s son has done to one’s brother? Can the committed atrocities, and there’s a number on each of their records, truly be pushed into the background? But how else to explain her sudden memory loss where Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux are concerned? 

His mother is as much of a mystery as the Force bond he shares with Hux.

 

Hux is sitting on the sofa, frowning over something he reads on his datapad. He’s still in his uniform.

“I like your hair a lot better like that,” Ben says and sits down next to him. “It’s too beautiful to be slicked back all the time.”

Hux narrows his eyes.

“What’s that? One chat with your elegant mother and you give out styling advice?”

“Just saying. So,” he pulls his legs up and sits cross-legged, “strategy advisor, eh?”

“Indeed.” Hux switches the datapad off, unbuttons his jacket and shrugs out of it. Underneath, he wears one of his black undershirts. “We had an interesting conversation. Your mother is an exceptionally sharp-minded woman. I don’t think there’s a lot she doesn’t know.”

“And yet, she hired you on as strategy advisor.”

“Offering military support in return.”

“Who would have thought.”

“Well, who indeed.”

They fall silent, lost in their own thoughts for a few moments.

“Did she tell you about the holo meeting at three?” Hux asks and Ben nods.

“She asked me to be there, too. I’m not sure what she wants of me because I know nothing about military tactics but I’ll join you.”

“Don’t be absurd. They will have questions about Snoke and his way of thinking, and who better than you to explain a few things to them?”

“You think so?”

“Of course. Let’s go back to bed,” he says and gets up. “We have sandwiches and fruit to finish, and I have your cock to suck.”

Ben takes too sharp a breath and starts coughing.

“What?” he wheezes, his eyes watering.

“You heard me,” Hux says, unmoved. “You did an outstanding job right after we showered and I feel like returning the favour.”

******

They set five hours of training sessions aside each day and Hux re-arranges his carefully scheduled appointments to accommodate this, much to Il’Yask’s chagrin. Neither knows what’s coming and when but they both know that however much they train, it won’t be enough. Still, each practised move will count.

Hux catches on surprisingly quickly and soon taps into Ben’s power with near somnambulistic confidence. All Ben needs to do is throw him a ‘Force-rope’ and Hux catches it, uses it like he would use any other prop that’s useful in a fight. He can’t initiate that kind of contact himself but he doesn’t need to for Ben could be half comatose and still give him a leg up. They experiment with hauling each other through the air, stop the other’s fall, hold on to the Force in mid-jump and whirl around to attack from behind. Hux is better at this sort of acrobatics than Ben is, what with him being less heavy and possessing a much more honed body control. And each time Ben works himself too deeply into a dark fury to draw together the strength he needs, Hux adds cool to his fire and brings him back into balance.  

The Force flows beautifully between them, a smooth, steady stream of power. It’s a new level of intimacy they find in the confines of their gym room and Ben cannot imagine what it was like not having Hux this close. 

His own training is just as rewarding. Using the Force comes to him as easy as breathing but there’s still a lot he needs to learn about sword-fight, and not only that. Hux teaches him some unarmed combat, too, shows him how to raise his knee first and then extend his leg for a vicious kick (“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.” “Don’t be absurd, Ben. You need to learn how kick back properly, is all.”), teaches him how to twist his fist at the last moment when delivering a punch, explains about finding his body’s centre, about angles and shifting his weight to where it’s needed without effort, shows him how to trip his opponent. Ben is also beginning to enjoy fighting with the staff. He likes how it whistles when he swings it and he wonders whether he should try his hand at a double-bladed polearm, like the ones Snoke’s elite praetorians use. Or better yet, use a sabre-staff. Yeah, that’d be quite the thing. A sabre-staff. He’ll have to look into that.

 

“So, figured out what it is that fuses us together?” Hux pants as he drops down next to Ben after another session that’s left them sweating and exhausted. 

Ben pulls his hair free and shakes it loose. “Apart from the sex, you mean?”

“That, and your sparkling personality. We never really talked about that, did we. The bond, not your charms.”

“No, and I’ve not managed to make much sense of Vader’s documents. In all honesty, I keep forgetting.”

“What do you mean, you keep forgetting?”

“I plan to sit down and study it more diligently and meditate on it, I really do, but then there’s the training sessions and all the strategy meetings and the City Guard,” he spreads his hands in a helpless gesture, “I’m not a very good student. I can’t sit down and brood over data and information for hours on end, like you can. But what I do understand is that there are actual, active Force users, like myself, Uncle Luke, Snoke and the Jedi and Sith and so forth, while some beings are, well,  passive Force users.”

“What, like passive smokers?”

“Not exactly. A passive smoker doesn’t really do anything with the smoke they inhale, right? Whereas with the Force, there’s beings who serve as Force vessels for active Force users, you know, offering additional Force strength to tap into.”

“Isn’t that pointless? Didn’t you say the Force surrounds us, is present in everything around us and so on? Why would anyone need a personal vessel to lug around if there’s enough right at their fingertips?”

“I have no idea,” Ben shrugs. “A back-up, maybe? Like an extra battery?”

Hux snorts. 

“Whatever. Like I said, it doesn’t make much sense to me. In any case, that’s not what you are and so I didn’t bother with all of that. I used to think you’re truly Force-mute because I never noticed your presence in the Force but now that we’re connected, you’re impossible to miss. I mean, how could I ever not see you? I still haven’t quite figured you out—”

“Thank the stars for that.”

“—but I think you’re like a counterweight to me, like the second tray of a scale to keep me in balance. An anchor to hold me in place.”

“A weight around your ankles?”

“Far from it. A safety rope, more like.” He leans back against the wall. “I don’t care how it sounds but I feel much safer. Before, it was like spiralling through a vast ocean of emptiness, you know, propelled forward by all that power inside of me.”

“What’s it feel like, being like that?”

“Terrifying,” Ben says without hesitation. “Lonely.” 

It’s not something he’s ever said out loud, like he’s not voiced a lot of things in the past, but it’s all right to tell Hux because Hux can know it all. Hux holds him when he needs it, holds him in the Force, holds him after sex, holds him when he's in one of his brooding moods, but never once has remarked on it. He just holds him and it feels right. 

Ben reaches for Hux’ hand. 

“Not anymore, though,” he says and squeezes it.

Hux squeezes back.

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad.”

It’s as emotional as he will get outside the bedroom but it’s good enough and Ben smiles.

“When will you tell the Council?”

They’ve not informed anyone of the current situation. It’s not good to stir civilians up, Hux has told him and Ben has agreed after some thought. There’s nothing concrete to report yet and conjuring up vague crisis scenarios will only cause unnecessary panic.

“Tomorrow,” Hux says. “I’ve scheduled an extraordinary meeting with all of the Guild masters for oh nine thirty and have asked Ser Te-Onh to see me an hour before that. I plan to officially name her my successor if things get ugly, and I will need you and Il’Yask to formally witness it.”

Ben nods. He’s thought about it, too. “I’m going to see Kelenn tonight,” he says. “For the exact same reason. Well, not in my official capacity because I don’t think the Council would accept her as Security Chief but she must be in the know. Ki’Quan, too, because she’ll have to look after Matt and Techie.” 

“Sionn,” Hux reminds him. “His name is Sionn. You found that out for him, remember? Anyway, Kelenn should meet both of us in our suite. She needs to be officially updated and I want her by my side during the meeting. It’ll be better for her to be fully informed. You can discuss the off the record part in your office and of course it’s up to you how much you want to reveal about your true identity and your family ties to General Organa.”

“Okay,” Ben says. “That makes sense. I’ll contact her as soon as we’re done here. So,” he nudges Hux, “care to go for another round? We have some twenty minutes left and you’ve not yet let me touch your nunchakus.”

“With good reason. You’re not quite ready to play with the nuns.”

 

Stars, was Hux ever right! 

By the time Ben crawls into bed, he’s sporting an impressive bruise on his left shoulder blade and has only just had the nasal tamponade removed the med droid insisted he needed (“but sir, the bleeding must be stopped”). 

Let Hux have his kriffing nuns all for himself. 

“Are you better?” Hux mumbles and rolls over to look at Ben in the semi-darkness of their bedroom. “You look horrible,” he observes. “Maybe you should wear your mask to tomorrow’s meeting. Your looks and my news will freak the Council out for sure.”

“Fuck you,” Ben grumbles but it comes out a bit muffled with his still swollen nose and Hux snickers.

“Told you you weren’t ready.” He places a careful kiss on the tip of Ben’s nose and a sweet, lingering one on his lips. “Sleep now, my wounded warrior, and let the meds work their magic.”

Ben growls at him but turns around and lets himself be pulled against Hux who is already sleep-warm. _No longer lonely_ , he thinks and the thought warms him from inside out.

“If it weren’t for all of this,” Hux whispers behind him, “where would you like to be and what would you do?” He nuzzles the nape of his neck, kisses the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. 

A shiver runs down Ben’s spine and he closes his eyes. 

“I meant what I said. I’ll go where you go.”

“What if I left the choice to you?”

Hux’ breath against Ben’s naked skin causes goosebumps. His cock signals interest.

“Chandrila,” he says. “I think I’d like to see Chandrila again. There’s calm seas and beautiful hillsides and lots of green and the weather is never harsh, if I remember correctly. We left when I was little. We never stayed too long in one place.” He turns his head to look over his shoulder. “And you?”

“I’ll be where you are,” Hux says in a variation of Ben’s words and tightens his hold around Ben’s waist. “Chandrila sounds like a nice place. I’ve never been there. And what would you do?”

“Make sandwiches,” Ben replies promptly and Hux chuckles.

“We’d be rich in no time,” he says and Ben would swear he feels him smile against his skin. “And I would be your kept man.”

That makes Ben laugh. 

“You’d jump out of your skin before the first moon has set.”

“Probably. I’ve not thought much about what I would do outside the military. This is the most civilian I've ever been. I think that maybe I’d like to teach.”

“You’d be a good teacher.”

“You think so?” It sounds surprised.

“Of course. You know everything and people respect you. Let’s open up a school. You’ll be the teacher and I’ll sell sandwiches.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They whisper for a while longer and then they drift off into sleep.

 

_He’s falling again…falling…falling…blind and deaf and numb and yet, the nothingness around him blinds him and he is cold and the silence is so loud, so loud. He opens his mouth and screams but the scream is cut off before it leaves his mouth. And the silence screams at him and he covers his ears but still it screams. And still he falls. And still he’s cold._

_“Did you really think you could escape me, boy? Did you think you could run away and hide? You should have known better. You were never able to conceal your presence in the Force, oh no, not you. Is it fun, being the City’s masked protector? Is it, Kylo Ren? How does it feel to be alone, with only that Force-mute human by your side? To think that one like you should stoop so low. I would not have thought you to become my biggest disappointment and I have no further use for you for I have identified your successor. As soon as I have disposed of you and your equally useless partner, I will teach her the ways of the Force. Already, she’s stronger than you ever were. Good night, Kylo Ren. We will see each other very soon.”_

 

Ben wakes with a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist weaving something of my all-time favourite piece of Kylux fanart into this chapter. An insanely talented artist called Suzanne has created a most stunning scene, and if you're not familiar with it, you must go and look at it, I beseech you.  
> It's right here: http://suzannart.tumblr.com/post/143805586317/please-dont-look-at-me


	18. Chapter 18

Hux knows what just happened without having to ask Ren, without having to tap into their bond. He feels it in the way Ren’s body stiffens, sees it in his eyes when he turns around to look at Hux.

“I’ll get in touch with General Organa immediately,” Hux says and props himself up to get out of bed.

“Wait,” Ren grabs his arm. “Get him out of my head first. I feel soiled.”

“What do you want me to do?” He knows the answer the moment the question is out.

“Come into me,” Ren confirms. “My head and my body. Please.”

It’s all far from arousing and yet, Hux is hard in an instant. Maybe it’s the slight tremble in Ren’s voice, the urge to protect, the need to claim him as his. Maybe all of the above. Whatever the reason, Hux will not allow Snoke to sink his ugly teeth into Ren’s mind or body, not now, not ever again. 

He stretches to fetch the lube from the cabinet but when he reaches for Ren to get him ready, Ren swats his hand away.

“No,” he says, “I need it to hurt. It’ll help make it go away.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. My body will recognise yours.”

It’s a weird way of saying it but Hux understands him. It’s not as if their connection has changed their anatomy in any way; they still need lube and all that goes with it, but something about all of this somehow makes it…easier, and so Hux slickens up, positions himself between Ren’s legs, forces his knees up and apart and starts pushing inside without much ado, pushes carefully but steadily. At the first breach, Ren draws a hissing breath, throws his head back and groans. His cock hardens and lifts between them and that encourages Hux to shove in all the way without stopping until he is buried to the hilt inside Ren. Only then he pauses for a moment, reaches for Ren’s face and frames it with his hands.

“Only me inside you,” he whispers and kisses him. 

Ren buries his hands in Hux’ hair and deepens their kiss.

:: _Only ever you._ ::

He wraps his legs around Hux’ hips, urges him closer and Hux obliges, thrusts forward and pulls back until only the tip of his cock is inside Ren’s body, takes a few shallow dips until Ren makes an impatient noise, then pushes back in. He repeats this game a couple of times until Ren stiffens underneath him, but not in a good way, digs his fingers into Hux’ shoulders, but not in a good way either. 

Ren snarls. Not good at all.

“Light,” Hux says aloud, “twenty-five percent.”

 _Fuck_.

Ren’s eyes have changed into the yellowish red that Hux has come to dislike, no matter how strangely attractive the colour is because it means that Ren’s drawn up too much dark inside of him, and that usually means he’ll tip off balance any minute. And so Hux rams home with all the strength he can muster to get Ren’s undivided attention.

“Oh no, you won’t,” he punctuates his words with another forceful thrust. “Not on my watch you won’t.” He bends his head and demands Ren’s mouth, crushes his lips with his until he feels the metallic twang of blood. :: _You stop this nonsense right now, you hear me?_ ::

He feeds their connection as best he can, wills Ren to snap out of it, concentrates on getting the message across. Which is not easy when he’s buried balls deep in him but apparently he’s doing not too badly because he feels Ren’s body beneath him relax, and when he opens his eyes and raises his head, Ren looks back at him with eyes that are their usual warm brown.

“There you are,” Hux smiles and presses another kiss to his lips, softer this time, kisses Ren’s bruised nose. “Welcome back.” 

“Thank you.” Ren touches a finger to his lips and frowns when he sees blood. “What’s this about you and biting me? I’m beginning to think I’ve partnered with one of those old-fashioned vampyrs my Dad told me about.”

“You had to find out one day.” Hux licks across Ren’s full lips. “But it’s vampires, not vampyrs.”

“Whatever. Are you going to finish or what?”

“Hey.” Hux gets to his knees, slides out of Ren who growls in protest. “How about you finish yourself while I work that tight arse of yours?” He grabs Ren by the hollows of his knees and pulls him close, angles his cock and shoves back inside.

“You know I love it when you get filth—ah!”

The changed angle with which Hux thrusts into him makes Ren cry out and his cock thickens again.

“There’s a good lad,” Hux approves. “Show me how you like it.”

He knows exactly how Ren likes it, just as Ren knows Hux likes to watch him, and so Ren spits into his hand and wraps it around his length, pumps up and down, slicks himself up with his pre-cum.

“That’s how I like it,” he says, and his voice is thick with desire. “You inside me, fucking me hard and steady, with your eyes all green and on me.” He twists his fist, grabs himself harder, grunts. Ren’s lust floods into Hux’ system and Hux’ cock hardens some more inside of Ren. “And you like it, too.”

“You know I do.”

Ren’s dark eyes bore into his, wordlessly urging him on, and Hux does as bid, lets himself be consumed by Ren’s passion and fuels his fire with some of his own, sets a rhythm that has Ren shout and arch up, digging his heels into the mattress and lifting his hips up some to offer Hux an even better angle. Hux wraps his arms around Ren’s waist to support him, bends forward to kiss his taut stomach. Ren lets go of his cock, flings his arms up and over his head to steady himself against the headboard and surrenders himself to Hux’ onslaught. The sight of Ren’s beautiful, powerful body stretched out before him in complete abandon crushes what’s left of Hux’ grip on himself and his orgasm hits before he knows what’s happening to him. _Gods, no!_ He’s not ready to orgasm, he’s not there yet, please no, not yet, he’s not done with Ren…but there it is and it washes over him, makes him fall forward and pump into Ren, pump and twitch and jerk his hips forward until he feels as if he’s squeezed the last of his lifeblood through his dick and into Ren…Ren who hasn’t finished yet and whose cock is still swollen, with a tip that’s glistening and looks red with anger.

“Hux, please—”

Hux pulls out, his cock giving a couple of weak twitches as if to protest but it’s a shallow protest and Hux slides down, licks along Ren’s thick shaft and swallows as much of him as he can. He can’t swallow him whole—stars no he can’t—but he swallows what he can, twirls his tongue around Ren’s length and starts sucking rhythmically. He cannot get enough of Ren, of the barely suppressed strength under that smooth skin of his. That goes for the man’s entire body and especially for the part that’s now in Hux’ mouth, steel encased in smooth silk, tasting a little salty and a lot like Ren, and holy Maker, those helpless little noises Ren makes when Hux zigzags his tongue along the thick vein like so…the way he whimpers when Hux sucks on the bulbous cockhead with his tongue pressed into the slit like so; and then Ren buries his fingers in Hux’ hair and cries out, and Hux holds on and swallows, and swallows some more and licks his lips and licks Ren’s cock until Ren gasps and pulls away from him, reaches for him and pulls him up and against his chest in which his heart is hammering.

Hux looks into his his face and thinks he’s never seen anything—or anyone—as beautiful as Ren is now, relaxed, well-fucked and smiling up at him, his eyes half closed, his face flushed with lust. It’s something that no-one will ever take away from him, the memory of that smile, no matter how all of this will end. This moment is theirs, and theirs alone.

“I love you,” he says and is surprised at how easy it was to finally say it.

Ben’s smile widens and he touches his fingers to Hux’s lips.

“I know.”

******

“I felt it,” Organa says as soon as she comes on. “A sudden disruption in the Force, like an oncoming storm. Three squadrons of nine fighters each are getting ready for deployment as we speak, a battalion of three-hundred manpower is on stand-by. Will you be needing further support, such as a mobile med lab and transport vessels?”

“The City’s hospitals are fully staffed and perfectly able to look after the wounded but let’s hope it will not come to that.” Hux is less optimistic than he hopes to appear but he doesn’t want to test Organa’s goodwill, for goodwill this is and he is well aware of it. She has no reason to step in the way she does and probably wouldn’t if her son wasn’t involved. But this is not the time nor the place to question the General’s reasons. “Contingency protocols and crisis strategies have been established and regular drills ensure full operability of crucial stations throughout the City.”

“You’ve been expecting this to happen, then?” Organa’s voice has taken on a sharp undertone and Hux permits himself a slight frown.

“With all due respect, General, but no, I haven’t. Not on this scale, anyway. The City is hovering above a gas planet and a regrettable amount of standard procedures has been neglected over the course of the past decades. It was necessary to update and re-establish all necessary safety protocols and that’s exactly what I did.”

“I understand. In that case, expect three squadrons very shortly. I will alert you as soon as the battalion has been set in motion.”

“I will send the hyperdrive coordinates immediately.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, General. Your support is most welcome.”

“I consider it an investment, Administrator. And now, if you will please excuse me, I am overdue for a briefing. I expect to be kept posted.”

Now here is a dismissal if ever he’s heard one.

“Certainly.”

They end the call. Hux sits back in his chair, drums his fingers on his desk. What next? He hears Ben’s voice through the half open door; he’s probably talking to Kelenn, from the sound of it. Well, in that case, might get some work done, too and he reaches for his datapad to prepare the handover document for Ser Te-Onh.

******

The meetings go exactly as expected. 

Ser Te-Onh accepts Hux’ request to be his designated successor in her usual calm and measured way, refrains from commenting and merely expresses her hope that it will not come to that for a long while, “for under your skilful leadership, Administrator, the city has finally begun to flourish once more”. To the news of a potential strike at the hands of the First Order she nods.

“It’s not the first time the City faces an attack,” she says. “But are you absolutely certain?”

“I’m afraid so. The communication we’ve intercepted indicates as much.”

“May I ask you how you came by this information?”

“Mr Solo has established contact to a general of the Resistance. It was through their channels that we received said news.”

“In return for what?”

“Strategic advice.”

“On?”

“This is on a need to know basis for now and should the need arise for you to take over, you will find all the information you need in a file that will be released as per my specifications. Suffice to say that the City’s safety will not be compromised by this. Quite the contrary, actually. The Resistance has offered military support. Three fighter squadrons are already on their way.”

The Pau’an gives him a searching look, but says nothing as Il’Yask is approaching. Hux briefs him, too, but does not mention the unofficial deal he’s struck with the Resistance. If Il’Yask suspects something, he does not say. He draws up the documents he has prepared and after Ser Te-Onh and Hux have signed all seven copies, he and Ben co-sign as witnesses.

“Very well,” Hux says. “Let’s meet the Council.”

 

And that, too, goes exactly as Hux has expected. The moment he’s finished, all Council members start talking at the same time and Hux grits his teeth and reminds himself that he’s not dealing with military personnel. These are civilians and they’ve not been trained to deal with situations such as this one. He makes a couple of fruitless attempts to say something but nothing short of shouting will cut through the babble of voices, and shouting is not one of his strengths. He doesn’t have the voice to out-roar a crowd.

“SILENCE!”

Ben, of course, does. Larger than life body, larger than life voice. The room falls silent as he half rises from his chair and leans forward with his fists on the desk, a tall, menacing presence dressed in black fighting leathers, a stark contrast to Hux tailored uniform-slash-suit.

“You will be quiet when the Administrator is addressing you,” he thunders. “This is not an open discussion!”

“Thank you, Mr Solo,” Hux says and Ben sits back down. “As I was saying, I have received news fragments,” he puts extra emphasis on the word ‘fragments’, “about a potential First Order strike. As per this minute, that’s all there is. Incomplete bits and pieces about something that may or may not happen, and I therefore strongly advise against pro-actively evacuating the City.” He looks around the room, seeks eye contact with each Council member. “I expect all of you to treat this information with the utmost confidentiality for the time being. I will keep you updated so please have your communicators open at all times. Yes, Thonius?”

The pale-skinned Near-Human, head of the Merchants’ Guild and designated successor of Kuirleng, former Treasurer and unsuccessful would-be assassin, clears his throat.

“Has your undisclosed source given a reason why this city has suddenly attracted the First Order’s attention? Ever since the Empire has withdrawn, we’ve managed to escape most of the political trials and tribulations and apart from the occasional stopover by some of their vessels, there’s been little to no contact.”

There is something in Thonius’ eyes that makes Hux hesitate and send Ben a wordless question through their connection. Ben narrows his eyes, then gives an imperceptible nod.

“There used to be ties between myself, Mr Solo and the First Order,” Hux says. “But although these were severed quite some time ago, it’s safe to assume we’ve been tracked down.”

“Someone is holding a grudge,” Ben cuts in. “The way I see it, there’s only two options. One, he’ll pinpoint an attack to get rid of the two of us, or two, he’ll have the city plus the planet evaporated just to make sure.”

Thonius rises from his chair. Behind Hux, Kelenn leaves her usual background post and comes to stand behind his left shoulder. He hears her unfasten her thigh holster with a _click_ and almost feels her tense up, ready to spring to his defense, but Thonius remains behind his desk with his hands in plain view.

“Will you not elaborate on the nature of your former ties to the First Order, General Hux?” he asks. 

 _Well, well, well._ It had to come out eventually and to be honest, Hux has expected it a lot sooner. Then again, Guild members probably have other priorities than the past of a man whose re-organisation efforts have made their profits rise in a remarkably short time.

“I applaud you, Thonius,” he says. “I see you’ve done your research.”

“Sadly, you didn’t see it through,” Ben leans back in his chair and crosses his ankles. “I don’t blame you for mistaking the Administrator for Armitage Hux. Hair like that tends to distract but you may rest assured, General Hux has ceased to exist. He was left behind to die on a planet about to collapse, along with Leader Snoke’s former protégé, Kylo Ren.”

So he’s sticking with what his mother said, too. Huh. Best not forget it.

“Oh yeah?” Fraaz, Yevethan leader of the Engineers’ Guild, gets to her feet, too. “So if he’s not Hux, who might you not be?”

“I am Ben Solo, as stated in the paperwork,” Ben replies in a mild voice, not taking the bait. “My father is Han Solo. He used to have dealings with Lando Calrissian, the City’s last official Baron Administrator, if the name rings a bell.”

“I am acquainted with Solo,” the Builders’ Guildmaster says bitterly. “He conned me out of a set of very fine blasters.”

“And I never saw the credits he promised me in return for a hiding place,” Fraaz says, sounding not pleased about her memory of Han Solo either.

“That would have been him,” Ben replies, grinning. “Please accept my sincere, if belated apologies for my father’s behaviour.”

They exchange a look, engineer and builder.

“You know,” Fraaz says, squinting at Ben, “now that I think of it, you remind me of him.”

“Really?”

“Well, you’re taller and darker, but there’s something in the way you hold yourself. And you have the same grin.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment at all.

“I’ve heard that before. Thank you. I will tell him the next time we speak.”

“He’s still alive? Then you had better tell him…”

And Hux listens, stunned, to Ben blithely exchanging stories about his father’s colourful past as a con man with those who remember him, and watches as the suspicion leaves Thonius’ eyes. Either Ren’s people skills are better than Hux has given him credit for or he’s applying some Force persuasion. It’s probably the latter but who cares. It’s working. The brief moment of tension is over. Kelenn secures her blaster and steps back. 

“Gentlebeings,” Hux says when the Solo war stories finally come to an end, “allow me to thank you again for coming together at such short notice, and thank you for taking these worrying news with such professional calm.” _Calm_ his arse. “Should you have further concerns or questions, please do not hesitate to contact either me or Mr Solo. Our communicators will be open at all times and we will gladly answer all of your questions. Meeting closed.” 

He pushes his chair back and gets up. So does Ben.

Kelenn takes up position by the exit, her orange eyes scanning each Council member as they leave the conference room. She waits for the last being to pass by, then taps on her communicator that sits on the inside of her wrist.

“Clear?” she asks. “Sunral, you head for the suite and make sure all’s clear for the Administrator’s arrival. Ready, sir,” she tells Hux, and Ren receives a brief nod. “Captain.”

A little while ago, Kelenn ordered three more Zabrak fighters (“my cousins, sir, I personally vouch for them”) to watch over Hux’ safety, stating one bodyguard wasn’t enough and Ben backed her decision, urging him to accept them into his service. Apparently he knows one of them from his gym and after interviewing each of them, has spoken for their integrity. 

And so Hux makes his way back to their suite with his Zabrak heavies flanking him and Ben, at a not so discreet distance and for everyone to see, while Ser Te-Onh and Il-Yask stay behind to go through the paperwork and discuss among themselves.

The fourth Zabrak, Sunral, waits for them by the lift, a non-descript package by his feet.

“That it?” Kelenn asks and he gives a brisk nod.

“Exactly as ordered, Kel.” He bends down to pick up the package.

“Thanks, Ral.” She takes it and offers it to Hux. “For you, sir.”

“What is it?” He eyes the package suspiciously.

“Body armour, sir,” she says. “Plus a set of leathers and some quality boots.”

“What?” He looks at her, stunned. “You got me…clothes?”

“No, I did,” Ben says and takes the package from her. “She merely arranged for pick-up. Thank you, Kelenn. Lenoth, Perhuk, you guard the main hall. Sunral, I want you here. Kelenn, with us.”

He enters the code to their quarters and steps through the door with his usual long strides. Behind them, the door hisses close.

“Why would you order clothes for me?” Hux asks. 

“Because your combat gear was left behind on the _Finalizer_ ,” Ben says, puts the package on the dining table and opens it. “You can’t face what’s coming in one of your suits.”

“Because a set of fighting leathers will help me against—the fuck is all this?” He’s stepped up to the table to inspect what’s in the package. “That’s a joke, yes? Please tell me you’re joking.”

It’s a pair of black synthleather trousers, black knee-high combat boots with shin armour, a heavy leather belt, body armour, some long-sleeve shirt and a…tabard. 

“I didn’t realise I’d signed up for a costume party,” he says disapprovingly and lifts the tabard. “No way in hell I’m wearing this.”

Kelenn’s features remain expressionless but her lips twitch. It’s gone in an instant but Hux sees it nevertheless.

“Yes, Kelenn?” 

“I told him you wouldn’t approve of that particular design, sir,” she ventures.

“It will not hinder your movements,” Ben says. “Come on, try it. We have some time before the holo call.”

“Is this even the right size?” Hux is not convinced, doesn’t see the necessity to dress up as if joining the front lines. Especially not dressed up like a Zabrak mercenary. If it will come to actual fighting, it won’t matter what he wears. Snoke’s praetorians are elite soldiers, combat-trained in ways he can’t begin to think of, and no body armour will protect him from their pole-arms. And he has no idea what Snoke would be like in eye-to-eye combat. He can probably crush both of them and his Zabrak guards with a snap of his bony fingers.

“Of course it’s the right size. Your tailor droid gave me your measurements.”

“It did?”

“Of course. I’m the Chief of Security. My clearance overrides customer-tailor confidentiality.”

“I see.”

With a sigh, Hux gathers the clothes from the table and vanishes into his bedroom. If he absolutely has to dress up like that, he’s damn well not going to strip before Ben and Kelenn. 

He steps out of his shoes, sheds suit and shirt, hangs up what needs hanging up and pulls the black trousers on. They have a nice, snug fit but the material is a lot more elastic than it looks. He raises his knee for a mid-level kick. Good. Now for a high kick. Excellent. He tries a swift roundhouse kick with the other leg. _Huh_. Not bad at all.

The boots’ fastenings are unfamiliar and he struggles a bit to close them, then bounces experimentally on his toes. Heavy but comfortable, just as he likes it. Next, the shirt and the body armour. The latter is deceptively light but if Kelenn has procured it for him, he has no doubt it will serve its purpose well. Kelenn knows a thing or two about armour and he has come to trust her.

The tabard, well. Utterly unnecessary but very obviously Ben’s choice. Ben loves twirling and billowing and drama and grand entrances whereas Hux prefers to just appear. Out of nowhere, preferably. But he’ll give the tabard a try, of only to please Ben. If it’s too ridiculous, he can always ditch it but when he pulls it over his head and fastens the belt around his waist, it’s all right, actually. It’s neither twirly nor too long and, ending mid-thigh, it won’t get in the way. Ben got that right, at least.

He heaves another sigh and joins Ben and Kelenn in the living room section. Kelenn’s eyes sweep over him and one corner of her mouth lifts up. Ben freezes mid-move—actually freezes as in, stops what he’s doing and stands rooted to the ground—and stares at him.   

“Well?” he asks. “How bad is it?”

 


	19. Chapter 19

_By my sisters, I would mate with him right now. What a fine male._

Ben unfreezes and glares at Kelenn who stares at the opposite wall, her features expressionless. But her sudden—and, in Ben’s opinion, entirely inappropriate—rush of lust towards Hux lingers in Ben’s perception. _I would mate with him too, and screw the holo call._

Sadly, the call is with his mother and her inner command circle and therefore can’t be moved, postponed, or screwed. _Krong_.

But holy Mother of Pearls, it sure seems Hux has never worn anything but Zabrak combat-wear. The pants look moulded to his thighs and thank goodness he’s chosen to wear the tabard after all because if Ben were to see Hux’ tight ass in black synthleather, there would be no holo call, his mother and her merry bunch be damned. It’s bad enough as it is, with his beautiful, clear lines emphasised and his—

“Well?” Hux asks again. “I feel a trifle silly.”

“You don’t look silly,” Ben says, surprised at how steady his voice sounds. “It’s a perfect fit. Can you move as you need to?”

“I can, yes. Want me to show you?”

“That won’t be necessary.” It comes out a bit hasty and in an effort to mask his embarrassment, he looks at Kelenn and asks, with a malicious undertone, “What do you think, Kelenn?”

She looks Hux up and down and gives a curt nod of approval.

“The General looks every bit the fighter he is,” she says.

Ben feels his bristles go up at once.

“Oh? And how would you know what kind of fighter he is?”

“Because we train together twice a week,” Hux says and reaches for his datapad. “After the attack on me I came to realise that while my solitary training may be well and good to keep me in shape, it won’t help me when I’m being ambushed. Kelenn kindly offered to spar with me and I gladly accepted.”

 _Kindly offered_ indeed.

“And how does it feel to be flat on your back with her knee in your stomach?”

“Unpleasant,” Hux replies, scrolling through his messages.

“Not happening all too often anymore, Captain,” Kelenn says, not bothering to hide her amusement. “The General is a quick learner and profits greatly from your lessons, too. It’s both a privilege and a pleasure to serve him.”

“Is it now.”

“Come now, Ben,” Hux says. “You’re the one who insisted I should hire a bodyguard. Kelenn’s taking her job very seriously and I’m grateful for it. Let’s prepare the call now, shall we. Kelenn, please make sure nobody gets in until we’re done. That includes the cleaning droids. Afterwards, we’ll need to speak with all four of you to devise an observation and/or protection strategy.”

“Understood, sir.”

 

The call has barely started when Hux’ communicator beeps. Ben recognises the sound as the kind of beep Hux has defined for priority messages and, just as expected, Hux excuses himself and checks the incoming message.

“General Organa,” he says, looking up from his datapad, “the fighter squadron has just arrived. Mr Solo,” he turns to Ben, “may I trouble you with the task of supervising the arrival of the pilots? Il’Yask tells me the ground crew of landing dock nineteen-oh-five is on stand-by and ready to proceed.”

“Certainly, Administrator,” Ben says, grateful for the opportunity to escape another boring strategy discussion. He looks at his mother. “General, if you will please excuse me?”

“Go ahead,” she nods. “I’m glad to hear the squadron’s arrived.”

Ben rises and leaves the office, trying his best not to look as if he’s fleeing. Being Security Chief could be so much more fun if only there wasn’t so much bureaucracy and theoretical planning. Strategising and layouting is Hux’ strength, not Ben’s. He goes through Hux’ summaries after the meetings have taken place or better yet: listens to Hux summarise the facts for him and adapts his own strategies and plans accordingly. Sitting in the actual meetings where all of this is worked out? Copying old Jedi scripts was more fun. 

****** 

Landing dock nineteen-oh-five is buzzing with activity, the ground crew having their hands full guiding the Resistance fighters into their allocated slots. Ben counts fifteen fighters and there’s more coming in. The pilots stand together in a group, talking among themselves, and Ben walks over to greet them.

“Chief Solo?”

One of the pilots separates himself from the group and comes to greet him, removing his helmet on the way. He’s a short, rather attractive fellow with dark curls and equally dark eyes that travel along Ben’s body and he wears a smile so bright it would light up the entire Port Town section. Ben instantly recognizes him as the Resistance pilot who has enjoyed Kylo Ren’s questionable hospitality aboard the _Finalizer_.

 _Shit_.

But as he’s only ever seen Kylo Ren with his mask on, Ben relaxes a bit and carefully brushes across the man’s mind. No sign of recognition at all. _Good_.

“That’s correct,” he says and shakes the offered hand. “I take it you’re the squadrons’ leader?”

“You got that right,” the man’s smile widens some more. “Poe Dameron. Commander Dameron.”

“Good to meet you, Commander. Ben Solo, Chief of Security.”

“I know. It’s an honour to meet you, sir. Your father is a great man.”

Ben winces inwardly. Would Dameron still feel honoured if he knew who he’s talking to?

“He certainly is,” he replies. “Thank you. I’d like to meet your pilots, if that is all right with you.”

“Sure.”

Each of the three squadrons has a colour assigned to it, blue, red and black, and Dameron points out their pilots, their names raining down on Ben who carefully repeats each one to make sure he assigns them to their respective holders. T’chizerra, Estoban, Myers, Rrhynnu, Suk, Jiquan…they all have a unique presence in the Force that’s easier to remember than their given names.

Ben’s communicator goes off as the last of the fighters is coming in.

“Yes?”

“Incoming Dreadnought vessel in sector 5, I repeat, incoming Dreadnought vessel,” Hux’ voice comes on.

And, through their connection,

 _::It’s the_ Supremacy _, Ben. Snoke’s coming himself. Come back here at once.::_

“Understood,” he says and turns to Dameron. “I’m afraid the rest of the introductions will have to wait. Get your pilots back to their fighters while I—”

His communicator beeps again.

“Two more vessels have arrived through hyperdrive. It’s the _Finalizer_ and the _Valour_.”

“What.” Damn. Snoke really means business. “I’m on my way.” And, to Dameron, “I need your comm details so I can keep you updated.”

Poe nods and provides the requested information, his smile gone, his face all business. Ben adds him to his contacts.

“I’ll be in touch.”

“We’re at your disposal, Chief.”

 

Before he jumps on his speeder, Ben calls Hux’ tech advisor. The call connects immediately.

“Hello Ben,” Techie says. “I’m on my way to meet Lorcan at his office. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” Ben says. “I was going to ask you to come and see us, too. See you there, Sionn.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’ll tell you. Now hurry.”

“Hurrying,” Techie says and rings off. 

****** 

They arrive at the hotel at the same time and Lenoth and Perhuk step aside to let them into the lift. Hux is already expecting them, Kelenn standing half a step behind him like a menacing shadow, and they follow him into his office to gather around the small meeting table.

“I cannot predict what’s going to happen next,” Hux starts without preamble. “I wish I could hand out a strategy paper or at least present you with anything resembling a strategy but the truth is,” he spreads his hands, “I have no idea what to expect.” He gestures for them to sit down. “Fact is, the First Order has dispatched three of its most powerful ships, one of which is the _Supremacy_ —”

Next to Hux, Kelenn draws a hissing breath and Hux nods.

“Exactly so. The _Supremacy_ is Leader Snoke’s personal flagship and it is safe to assume he is on board.”

“So it’s either blow up the planet,” Ben cuts in, “or rid the universe of the two of us, just as we thought. I doubt he’s coming in for trade negotiations.”

“Unlikely.”

Kelenn clears her throat. “May I ask what the nature of your business is with Snoke?”

“Before we arrived here, I was a First Order general and the Chief used to be Snoke’s henchman.” Hux apparently sees no reason to veil the facts. “Thonius was not all that off with his suspicions.”

She narrows her eyes.

“‘Was’ and ‘used to be’?”

“Was and used to be,” Ben confirms. “I guess it’s safe to say our business relation ended when we were left behind on a collapsing planet. Both General Hux and Kylo Ren died that day.”

She nods, as if his meagre explanation is good enough for her but he’s not deceived by her quiet acceptance. There will be questions later, when all this is over and if they’re still here and able to communicate, no doubt about that. But for now, she asks no more questions.

Techie’s not said a word since they’ve sat down. Instead, he’s been typing away on his datapad that’s twice the size of the one Ben normally uses, doesn’t even look up when Kelenn asks her question, nor when Hux answers it. Then again, he knows all there is to know or at least, he knows everything he needs to know. Probably more. From what Ben’s seen so far, he has little to no doubt this strange, jumpy creature who has somehow become one of Hux’ most trusted advisors can hack into any system invented by any remotely intelligent race.

He now raises his eyes from his screen and says,

“A direct comm line to radio control has been set up, sir, they’re on line six of your personal comm system. Tapping into First Order channels now.”

“Thanks, Sionn,” Hux says and clicks open his desk comm device.

A heavily accented voice comes on.

“This is Tower control central.”

“This is Dale. Three First Order vessels are approaching. Have they made contact yet?”

“They have indeed, sir, and have requested permission to dispatch a shuttle. We were about to contact Chief Solo about that.”

“And why is that?” Ben asks. “It’s not unusual for First Order ships to dock and refuel, is it.”

“It’s not, sir,” the bodiless voice confirms. “But they’re not here to refuel. It would seem Surpreme Leader Snoke himself is about to visit the city. We were not informed of this and we need to confirm all necessary measures have been taken to ensure his safety during his stay.”

“Good thinking. It’s all in order and permission may be granted. Direct them to the VIP landing dock. Administrator Dale and I will meet our guests there.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Inform us at once when the shuttle has arrived. This line will remain open.”

“Understood.”

Hux ends the call and Ben nods at Kelenn.

“Kelenn, get your cousins in here. The Administrator will need all four of you. Brief them as you see fit. You have my trust. I’ll alert the pilots.”

“What about the City Guard’s special unit?” Kelenn suggests. “As back-up?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hux says. “They’ll attract unwanted attention. Snoke is unlikely to want to parade the City. It’ll be get in, get the job done, get out.”

“Understood, sir.”

She puts both fists on her chest and executes a smart bow, then heads for the door, already speaking into her comm device. Ben follows her with his eyes and congratulates himself, not for the first time, on following his instincts to recruit Kelenn to be his second in command, despite her…credentials. Technically, Hux’ four bodyguards are no real match for Snoke’s elite praetorians but Ben knows better than to underestimate a trained Zabrak warrior. If bad comes to worse, they may give them a few precious seconds of a head start.

He calls up Dameron’s comm number and waits for the call to connect.

“Dameron.”

“Commander, this is Solo. Get your pilots into their fighters and back in the air. We’re expecting visitors and I’d like them to see we’re not unprepared.”

“Any actions to be taken?”

“Not for now. Just...hover, and be alert and on call.”

“Hovering it is, Chief. Ready when needed.”

“Over and out.”

Behind him, Hux has crouched down before Techie who sits frozen before his datapad. Ben doesn’t need the Force to see Techie’s on the verge of a panic attack. Small wonder, that. He’s only just begun to open up and now his world threatens to crumble once more, and Ben is tempted to reach out in the Force and numb his panic.

_::Don’t.::_

Hux shoots him a warning glance and places a hand on Techie’s knee. “Sionn?”

“Yes, Lorcan?”

“You know what to do if anything happens to either Ben or myself. Make sure Ser Te-Onh gets the information she needs and provide Il’Yask with the codes to all second-level drives. My personal archive is to be deleted. I’m counting on you, you hear me?” Hux’ voice is gentle and he’s slipped into his home dialect that broadens his vowels and takes the edge off his consonants.

Techie hangs his head, starts scratching his forearms.

“Look at me, Sionn,” Hux urges him.

Techie raises his head, his strange bionic eyes whirring open and close.

“There’s a file named tech dot double-oh-four-oh-z in my personal archive. It’s a single file, placed before the subfolders. I’m sending you the code now,” he taps on his datapad. Techie’s datapad blinks once, signalling an incoming message. “It’ll give you access to a numbered account in your and Matt’s names. Maybe you’ll want to buy nice quarters here or start over someplace else if you want. You’ve been indispensable, Sionn, and I guess it’s about time I told you.” He holds out his hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you, Lorcan,” Techie says, his words barely audible, and he rapidly blinks when he takes Hux’ hand. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I’m glad you ran into me that day.”

“Me too.”

He stops scratching his forearms and manages a smile. It’s a trembling smile, but he tries.

“Tell Matt he’s been a great workout partner,” Ben says. “And tell him to up his calf raises. I know he hates them but he really shouldn’t neglect his calf muscles. He should keep it all in proportion.” He carefully ventures closer, like one would approach a small animal, and lightly presses Techie’s shoulder. “But don't tell him right away. I’d rather tell him myself.”

Maybe it’s wrong to instil hope when there is so little of it but Ben cannot bring himself to be cruel to this shy, quiet man who’s had to endure so much in his past. But when Techie looks up at him with such trust as if Ben alone can ward off all evil, the stabs of Ben’s conscience feel like real, actual stabs.

He returns Techie’s smile with as much confidence as he can muster.

“Now off you go. Be safe.”

Techie clutches his equipment to his chest, gets up from his chair and all but runs for the door without looking back.

Hux raises from his crouch, squares his shoulders and grits his teeth. His tension is tangible, it’s in his clenched jaw muscles and his tightly compressed lips and although Ben himself feels far from relaxed, he still wants to pull Hux into his arms and kiss his tension away—

“We’re ready, sir.”

—but the Zabraks have arrived and it will not do for the Security Chief to kiss the Administrator before his bodyguards, and so Ben acknowledges Kelenn’s words with a brisk nod.

“Time to meet the visitors. Let’s go.”

He clips his lightsabre to his belt and throws Hux the other two. Hux looks at them like he's never seen them before but then attaches them to his belt, one to each side.

"Let's go," he confirms.

 

During the short lift ride down to where Hux’ shuttle is parked, they stand sandwiched between their Zabrak guards, and they stand so close that their shoulders touch. It’s not quite the same as kissing, but it’s the closest they can be right here and right now. Ben meets Hux’ eyes and it doesn’t take the Force to hear what he thinks. It’s an echo of what’s on Ben’s mind.

_So this is it. Here is where it ends, one way or another._


	20. Chapter 20

It’s strange, seeing Snoke again after all this time. His shuttle lands in the VIP section, as directed, and he steps out with surprisingly little to-do, pauses only briefly on the steps to take in his surroundings.

He’s flanked by six of his praetorians, and he’s wearing one of his trademark robes, a dark red one with golden hems and looks every bit as ridiculously ugly as Hux remembers. If it weren’t for his strength in the Force and his ruthless use of it, Hux would never have thought about paying him any form of respect for he deserves none whatsoever.

“Welcome to Cloud City,” he says in an expressionless voice.

Snoke casts him a derisive glance and Force-swats him aside, like one would swat away an insect. Hux flies back and crashes into one of the durasteel pillars, comes to land on his backside like he’s done so many times before, way back when, and it’s still every bit as humiliating as he remembers. It’s painful, too, and he lies motionless, taking shallow breaths that won’t hurt his ribcage.

“Look at you,” Snoke says, addressing Ben, and he doesn’t even try to hide the disdain in his voice. “The mighty Kylo Ren, throwing away everything he had to team up with a Force-mute human to watch over a desolate city. Tell me, my young apprentice, how does it feel to be so utterly cut off and alone?”

Ben raises his chin.

“I am not cut off,” he says, “nor am I alone. And I am no longer your apprentice.”

“Are you not?”

“I am not. You ended my apprenticeship when you left me behind.”

They stare at each other, former master and apprentice, then Snoke flinches. Actually flinches, as if he’s been hit. His praetorians move to stand before him at once but Snoke raises his hand, stops them.

“Arrogant fool,” he hisses. “It’s always been your biggest weakness, that arrogance of yours. An heirloom of your father, I reckon.”

“Leave my father out of this.”

“Not too long ago you told me he meant nothing to you.”

“Times have changed, Snoke. I’ve done a lot of thinking and –”

He is cut off by a snarl and a sudden onslaught of Force lightning, strong enough to make him stagger back a couple of steps. Ben’s lightsabre is out in a blink but Snoke doubles the intensity of his attack.

It’s then that Kelenn and her cousins spring into action, attacking the praetorians to get their focus off Snoke, and Hux struggles to get up. He still feels dazed from the impact but breathing no longer hurts and so he shakes his head to clear his mind and rolls his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sunral take a stumble and the vibro-arbir blade of the praetorian he’s fighting is whirring dangerously close. Hux is close enough to land a clean kick to the guard’s back and he does, sending the praetorian to his knees. It’s all the time Sunral needs to regain his balance, angle his serrated blade to slide between the armour’s plates and deliver a deadly thrust. The praetorian’s lifeless body falls over and the Zabrak gives Hux an approving nod. Hux nods back and leaps to Lenoth’s defence.

What he really wants is to back up Ben, but Ben’s made him promise to keep their bond hidden for as long as possible, along with his ability to tap into the Force through their connection.

“Snoke must not know about this until the very latest,” he told Hux on their way to the VIP landing pad. “He thinks you’re Force-mute and I want to keep it that way until we know what it is he wants.”

“He wants to get rid of you,” Hux replied, “and I will not have it.”

“He won’t get rid of me all that easily, but when he finds out what binds us together, he will use you to get to me and that,” he reached for Hux’ hand and lightly pressed it, “would break me for sure. Promise me you’ll stay away as long as I still stand. And keep your lightsabres hidden for a while. Let them be a surprise, too.”

“I promise I’ll try;” Hux said, pressing Ben’s hand in return. “But if he hurts you, I’ll bloody kill him.”

“You have my permission for that.”

With that in mind, Hux fights alongside his Zabrak bodyguards who turn out to be more of a match for the praetorians than expected. Their blasters are useless against the powered armour-plates but their blades and knives are not, and while the praetorians’ hand-to-hand combat training may be exceptional, the Zabraks know how to fight dirty. Hux has not accepted them into his service for their impeccable rise through military ranks. He has accepted them because Ben recommended them and because Kelenn personally vouched for them. In short, Hux has based his judgment solely on the trust that’s grown between him and his partners. This trust, and the partnerships that come with it, are worth protecting, and so he snatches up the weapon from the praetorian that went down, separates the two halves of the vibro-blade and finds them well-balanced and not too different from his own set of nunchakus. _Excellent_. All those sparring lessons with Ben and Kelenn are finally paying off and Hux takes grim joy in inflicting as much damage as he possibly can. He’s done his share of dirty work as a young officer but he’s never actually fought in a combat unit and it wouldn’t have occurred to him to face one of Snoke’s elite praetorian guards all by himself, but he feels confident enough to back up his battle-experienced Zabraks. Besides, the bond between him and Ben is humming inside of him and he takes that as a good sign, until—

Ben cries out. Hux whips around, sees him fall.

Two more praetorians have appeared—Snoke usually has a guard of eight, how for fuck’s sake could either of them have missed that?—and the chain-whip of the one closest to Ben has managed to curl around one of his ankles, falling him like a tree. One of the First Guards raises his vibro-blade, ready to strike, but Ben somehow manages to swat the weapon away. His strength is fading, though, and Hux isn’t by his side quickly enough. The guard smoothly adjusts the angle of his weapon and slams the blunt edge of the blade into Ben’s knee. Snoke Force-lifts Ben up, viciously spins him around and crashes him into the ground. The First Guard stomps his heavy boot into the back of Ben’s knee, grips his ankle and twists. Ben’s knee gives with a sickening crunch and he howls. Another heavy stomp to the knee—and Hux’ foot connects with the guard’s helmet, catching him unaware and Hux’ vibro-blades cut through the red armour unhindered.

“Ben!”

Hux drops to his knees next to Ben, dropping his blades, forgetting about Snoke for a split-second but realises the huge mistake he’s made the instant the blue energy flashes stop to rain down on Ben and he looks up, only to see Snoke shift his focus from Ben to him.

“I wouldn’t have expected to see such a display of valour from you, General. Just…how exactly did you plan to save him?” Snoke makes a small gesture, as if he’s pressing down on something, and Hux is pushed, face first, to the ground. “Have you learnt nothing, you useless whelp?”

“Snoke—master, please. Let him go. He is of no use to you.” Ben’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper. “I’ll go with you. Don’t waste your energy on him.”

“Ben, no!” Hux manages to turn his head. Ben looks at him out of eyes that are huge and frightened.

“Ah, so that’s what this is?” There is something like interest in Snoke’s voice and he looks from Ben to Hux and back. “You have formed an attachment. How delightful.” The pressure on Hux increases. “It will be my pleasure to crush your pet before your eyes. A friendly reminder of who is the master here and who’s the student. Let me refresh a valuable lesson.”

An invisible hand yanks Hux into a kneeling position and pulls him backwards, bending his spine in the wrong direction. His muscles and bones scream in protest. Not much longer and Snoke will break him.

 _Enough_.

With what little remains of his strength, Hux taps into their bond. Their connection flares open and Ben’s mind instantly connects with that of Hux, like hand to wrist, front to back. It’s exactly as it should be, it’s what they’ve been practising for these past months. Raw energy floods through Hux, mixed with Ben’s pain and anger, and Hux welcomes it, sucks the sensations into his system, uses them to get his body back under control.

“You will crush nothing and nobody, you ugly fuck,” he says. “I’m bloody sick of you and this has to end now.”

Snoke’s eyes widen. This certainly is nothing he’s expected but he immediately shakes off the surprise.

“Does it indeed.”

He raises his hands and Force-lightning shoots from his fingers and into Hux. The pain is worse than anything Hux has ever experienced and he screams. Snoke’s features twist into the parody of a smile.

“Does it indeed,” he repeats softly and intensifies his onslaught.

When the pain reaches a level that is impossible to bear any longer, Hux breaks. Or rather: something inside him breaks free and slides into place. He goes silent. Everything inside him goes silent. Gone is his pain, and not only that. The mixture of red-hot anger and desperate fear that pours into into him through Ben turns into a stream of the purest, iciest heat that pushes everything aside. Everything but Ben. Nothing will ever remove Ben from Hux. But this wrath, this pure, beautifully shaped hatred fuels Hux’ much drained energy and he draws from it, greets it like an old friend. It’s as if every nerve ending, each tiny cell of his body drinks from this stream of never ending energy, filling up with strength until Hux is infused with a power he’s not thought possible for himself. So this is what it feels like when Ben calls upon the dark side! But where Ben’s anger is a firebrand, consuming everything and everyone in its way, Hux’ fury is a cold, shiny precision weapon and he will use it free them from Snoke’s hold once and for all.

He gets to his feet.

“Enough, I said.”

Snoke staggers back, almost steps on the hem of his robe.

“How is that possible? You don’t even appear in the Force.” 

“I really don’t give a shit.”

He reaches for his lightsabres, powers them up.

Something red behind Hux stirs and he whirls around, bends out of the way just in time, counter-attacks with a precise maneuvre. The white beams of his lightsabres buzz through the air and connect with the arm that holds the chain-whip. The praetorian stumbles, watches his hand fall to the ground but reaches for his blaster with the other—something so small as the loss of a hand will not stop him. Snoke’s elite praetorians aren’t elite for nothing. But Hux has neither the time nor the intention to engage in a direct fight. He reaches for the Force like he’s done so many times in practice and uses it to shove the praetorian out of the way. The guard flies a few metres back, crashes right into Lenoth and Sunral, and Hux turns back to Snoke who chooses this exact moment to throw more Force lightning at Hux.

Hux fends the blue energy sparks off with his blades and moves towards Snoke, one step at a time. He’s calm now. There’s no rage inside of him any longer, only this steady stream of cold, deadly energy. It surrounds him like a shield, makes him immune to what’s going on behind him, allows him to focus fully on what lies ahead. The Zabraks are doing well enough and although Ben’s wounded and on the ground, he’s still strong enough in the Force to not let anyone but Snoke get to him, and Snoke has Hux to deal with.

It’s getting to Snoke, this constant drawing on the dark side, and it’s beginning to show. He seems to age before Hux’ eyes and Hux smiles when he comes to stand at arms length before the Supreme Leader, shielding his upper body with one of his buzzing white blades.

“You look tired,” Hux says.

Something like uncertainty ghosts across Snoke’s features. “What are you?”

“I am Ben Solo’s Force-bonded partner.”

“A Force-bond?” Snoke narrows his eyes. “You have formed a Force-bond? Such a thing has not existed since—”

“Whatever, Snoke. I am also Chief Administrator of this City and as such I’m offering you the chance to withdraw at once.” He raises his second weapon, braces himself. “If you refuse, I will end you.”

Snoke sneers.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Famous last words.”

The lightsabres cut through Snoke and his upper half slides down, lands on the floor with a sickening, wet thud. His eyes hold a look of shocked surprise and his lips move in a last attempt to say something.

Then it’s over. Just like that.

Hux takes one step back, then another, and stares down at the lifeless form of the former Supreme Leader.

Behind him, the room falls silent and he turns around, slowly, slowly, as if in a trance. The four praetorians that are still alive drop their weapons, remove their helmets in a gesture of defeat and kneel down, hands behind their heads. The two Zabraks that are still standing— _Sunral and Lenoth? Where’s Kelenn? Perhuk?_ —jump to stand before them, blasters at the ready.

“Don’t!”

It’s Ben, voice hoarse, but the Zabraks hear him and obey. He struggles to get into a sitting position, cries out when he moves his injured leg. Hux switches his lightsabres off, fastens them to his belt and rushes over, drops to his knees beside Ben. The moment their eyes meet, all hatred and fury leaves him in a rush. There’s no room for anger anymore and he dismisses it without so much as the blink of an eye. There is only one thing that counts.

“Are you all right?”

It’s a stupid question, really. Ben’s pale as a ghost and his right knee bears no resemblance to a body part any longer. No human body part, at least. But his eyes are clear, if a little bloodshot, and he manages the weakest of smiles.

“Never better,” he croaks. “Is it done, Hux? Is it really over?”

“It is for now,” Hux says. “The Snoke part is over but who knows what we have set in motion.”

“You mean what you have set in motion.” Ben tries to move and grunts with pain. “Fuck, that hurts. Doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to heal.”

Hux forces himself to look closer and winces. “Doesn’t look like it, either. I shouldn’t have ended him that quickly. He should have suffered for what he’s done to you.”

Ben shakes his head. Sweat drips from his hair and into his eyes and he wipes it away. His hand is not quite steady and neither is his voice.

“Good riddance, I say. What’s with the Zabraks?”

“Perhuk went down,” Sunral says, not taking his eyes off the praetorians.

“What about Kelenn?”

“She’s alive,” Lenoth shouts. Hux shifts his attention from Ben to Lenoth who strains to move a fallen praetorian away and yes, there’s Kelenn lying motionless underneath the body. “We need medics in here. She’s badly wounded.”

“No she’s not,” comes a rasp from where he crouches and with a relieved cry and one desperate yank, Lenoth pulls the dead guard off his cousin. Kelenn struggles to stand up, has to accept Lenoth’s hand. With his support, she limps closer, cradling what’s left of her left arm against her chest with the right. There’s blood everywhere on her body but apart from the arm and a nasty, wide cut on her right thigh she seems…not exactly well, but she’s alive and standing.

Hux activates his comm line.

“Il’Yask, this is Dale. We have a situation at the VIP landing section. I need two medical emergency teams now plus one standard crew. Alert City Police—”

“No police,” Ben interrupts him. “Let me handle the rest.”

“You’re in no condition to handle anything right now, Ben.”

“Kelenn,” Ben continues, ignoring Hux. “Where’s your communicator?”

“Back there with the rest of my arm,” the Zabrak says and now she does sway. Lenoth steadies her, pulls her against his side.

“Correction. Only the medical teams,” Hux says into his communicator, “and make it fast. Dale out.”

He walks over to where the dead praetorian lies and yes, there’s Kelenn’s arm. He bends down and with some effort removes the communicator and takes it to Ben who shakes his head.

“This shouldn’t come from me,” he says. “Kelenn, call for back-up. We need accommodation for our guests, too. Strict solitary confinement until I’m back on my feet, one way or the other, and I want it to be absolutely clear they are not to be tortured or abused in any way.”

“Understood.” She accepts the communicator from Hux and activates a line. Hux doesn’t wait for the call to connect but walks over to where Sunral still watches the praetorians, his blaster at the ready, waiting for one of them to make a wrong move. Snoke’s former bodyguards stare straight ahead, not moving a single muscle, a prime example of military discipline.

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” Hux addresses them, stating the obvious. “Where does that leave you?”

One of them, a dark-skinned human with eyes so pale they look bionic, raises his head and meets Hux’ eyes.

“Long live the Supreme Leader,” he says.

Hux snorts. “I think not. This title has long lost its appeal. You will be taken to a place where you will have plenty of time and quiet to think and assess your new situation. As soon as Chief Solo,” he puts extra emphasis on the last two words, “reports back for duty, we will discuss what to do with you.”

Four pairs of eyes are trained on him.

“This is not the First Order, and you don’t necessarily have to end like this.” He motions to where Snoke’s remains are lying. “Your call.”

******

Ben swings his legs over the examination table where he’s been lying more or less quietly on his back for fifteen minutes, with the med droids probing and prodding at his new leg, conducting all sort of functionality tests, and now it’s finally time for him to stand up unaided.

“I’m a little nervous,” he admits. “What if it doesn’t hold?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Hux says and eyes Ben’s new leg. “The droids here have just confirmed all is as it should be. Why shouldn’t it hold?”

“Because it’s not my leg, is it.”

“Well, you knew that before, didn’t you.”

The damage to Ben’s knee was absolute and after listening to the options, he decided against having it fixed for the sake of saving a limb.

“The way I see it,” he told Hux when they had a moment to themselves, “there’s just enough cartilage and blood vessels to make conservative surgery possible but there’s no guarantee the leg will be fully functional again. I don’t want to risk that. Uncle Luke has an artificial hand and that hasn’t stopped him, and my grandfather—”

“I know,” Hux said, shuddering. “Let’s not go there, shall we? It’s your decision, Ben.”

And so Hux watches Ben slide off the table and push himself up. His artificial leg is an almost exact replica of the one that had to be removed and if it weren’t for the absence of body hair, Hux couldn’t tell the difference. Even the skin tone is the same.

Of course it holds. Being the City’s Security Chief does come with certain privileges and excellent health care is one of them. Only the best of materials were used in the construction of Ben’s prosthesis and the famous—or infamous?—Lando Calrissian pulled all strings to send them the very best surgical team. Hux can’t wait to meet the man in person. Smuggler, Baron Administrator, General, entrepreneur extraordinaire…he is determined to learn as much as possible from him.

For now, however, he has his eyes on Ben who’s come to stand before him. No hover chair, no crutches, no helping hand needed.

Ben carefully bounces on his feet, gets on his tiptoes, takes a first, hesitant step, then a second.

He beams at Hux. “Look at me!” He lets out a whoop and does a silly little hop. “Good as new!”

“I am looking at you,” Hux smiles. “You look exactly the same. Now get ready. You have a shitload of work waiting for you.”

Ben groans.

“What?” Hux says, grinning. “Just because you have a new leg doesn’t mean your responsibilities have changed.”

“A man can always hope.”

“Sometimes hope evaporates.”

“Trust you to say something uplifting. I got a new leg attached only two days ago so technically, I’m still convalescing, yes?”

“Noted. I’ll have the paperwork delivered in smaller stacks.”

“Fuck you.”

Ben scowls but it’s a mock scowl and Hux bends forward to kiss the tip of his nose. 

“Later. Now hurry.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

There’s a knock at the door just as Ben fastens his boots.

“Come,” he says and straightens.

The door opens and Kelenn walks in.

“Good morning, sir, and good morning, Chief” she says, saluting smartly. “Reporting back for duty.”

“Already?” Hux asks. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely, sir. Good as new.”

“You’re the second person today to tell me they’re as good as new. I must say I'm not unimpressed. The surgeons seem to be worth their money.”

“Show me,” Ben says and whistles when Kelenn holds out her left arm. “Smart.”

Unlike him, Kelenn has opted for the uncovered model and the light from above makes her new arm shine. She flexes her fingers and balls her fist, takes one of her knives out of its scabbard and executes a few precise movements. Ben doesn’t flinch when the knife comes dangerously close, gives Kelenn an appreciative grin instead.

“I’m already training with Sunral,” she says and sheathes the knife, “and it’s going really well. No loss of sensation and the fingers are so much stronger.”

“And it adds to your menacing appearance,” Ben replies. “Now people will think thrice before approaching the Administrator in an inappropriate manner.”

“Does this extend to you, too?” Hux asks, interested, and laughs when Ben snorts. “A man can always hope.”

“Sometimes hope evaporates.” Ben says, in a fairly accurate imitation of Hux’ clipped speech. “You made a promise, Hux.”

“Did I? I forgot what it was.”

“I’d be happy to remind you.”

“I’m sure you would be and you shall. Duty first. Let’s go.”

Hux accepts the datapad on of the droids hands him, looks through the documents it holds and signs where indicated, authorising the invoicing process for Ben's and Kelenn's surgery and aftercare and hurries to follow the good as new patients outside.


	21. Chapter 21

“And what do you suggest we do now?” Ben asks. They sit in Hux’ office, with Hux behind his desk and Ben on one of the chairs before it. “I’m surprised the Order hasn’t taken any measures yet. I mean, it’s been eight days since you slew Snoke.”

“Stop saying I _slew_ him,” Hux looks up from his ever present datapad. “You’re making it sound like an ancient fairy tale. As if I’d come galloping in on my noble steed, shiny armour, lance and all.”

“You sure looked like it,” Ben says. “And I would have appreciated it even more had I not been half mad with pain. The way you handled the lightsabres? Kriffing hot, if you ask me. I bet Snoke never saw that coming.”

“I bet he didn’t.” Hux switches his datapad off and leans back. “To be honest, I’m still not over how easy it was to kill him. I mean, did he seriously not anticipate any of this? I don’t understand how he couldn’t see me in the Force. Didn’t you tell me every living thing has a unique presence? I’m a living thing, am I not? But even you said you never saw me before, remember? Before this bond happened you never saw me, you said. How is that?”

Ben shrugs. “I thought about that a number of times and I meditated on the question, too, but I’ve yet to find the answer. Maybe because you’re somehow linked to me? Always have been, perhaps? You’re attached to me like a shadow?”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ben grins. “Imagine what you and I could have achieved if we had known sooner.”

“I think it all happened at precisely the right time,” Hux says, sounding thoughtful. “I don’t think it would have happened the way it did five years ago, or even earlier. I may have been physically attracted to you but I was too busy building my career to think outside my military bubble. I wouldn’t have been able to fully appreciate a gift like that. And you, well, you were busy doing whatever you were doing. Hunting down what’s left of the Jedi. Bully the rest about. You know, Ren stuff.”

Ben doesn’t take the bait. It’s not as if Hux has not done his share of bullying.

“You think it’s a gift?” he asks instead.

“Of course it is,” Hux says and it sounds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. “I’m not a very spiritual person, as you well know, but I’ve never felt so complete before. So…whole. I never missed anything or anyone in my life, not ever, but now that I have you I wonder how I ever managed to exist without you.”

Ben blinks. Only Hux would make something so profound sound as if he’s presenting a budget forecast in one of his horrible business meetings. But his eyes…his eyes are very green as he says it and there’s the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. Their bond hums with contentment and warmth spreads in Ben’s chest. He smiles in return.

“Anyway,” Hux continues, “your original question. I’ve been in close contact with General Organa—”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“—and we went through different scenarios.”

“Why are you plotting behind my back with my mom?”

“Your ‘mom’?” Hux looks at him with raised eyebrows. “Not too long ago you barely managed to speak her name, and now she’s ‘mom’?”

“Well, she _is_ my mother, right?”

“Right. Anyway, the scenario that sounded the most ludicrous is the one that has the most potential to succeed, simply because it’s so ludicrous.”

“Yes?”

Hux grins at him and Ben suddenly has a very bad feeling about this.

“No way,” he says. “I’m not doing it.”

“You don’t know what I’m about to say.”

“I think I do and the answer is no.”

“Ben, please.”

“No, Hux.” He crosses his arms. “You’re insane. This is never going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Because—well, because it won’t.”

“But Ben,” Hux says in a very gentle voice. The tone reminds Ben of how his uncle Luke used to speak to him when he thought little Ben was being stubborn and it sets Ben’s bristles up at once.

“No.”

Hux raises one of his damned eyebrows.

“Are you going to stomp your foot next?” he asks and Ben feels like punching him. “Listen to me. We thought we wouldn’t be able to pull this here off but we did. We thought Snoke showing up with two star destroyers and his bloody oversized flagship would mean the pulverisation of our city but it didn’t. And now?”

He looks at Ben as if he expects a reply but Ben stares ahead, silent. Hux sighs and continues.

“The _Finalizer_ and the _Valour_  have left and the _Supremacy_ is hovering at a distance. If they wanted us gone, it would take one sneeze from the _Supremacy_ and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You know what she’s capable of!”

Ben nods but remains silent.

“Techie has hacked into her frequency and what do they broadcast? Little more than white noise and incoherent nonsense. The Order’s become too top-heavy to react to changes quickly and with its head cut off it will take weeks, if not months, before a decision is reached. Why not present them with a solution instead?”

“It’s been eight days. Shouldn’t they have come up with something in the meantime?”

“They’re probably conducting meeting after meeting to discuss the next steps. There is no standard operating procedure for this. Daily business and routine certainly continues as usual but the question of what to do in the unlikely event of the Supreme Leader’s sudden demise, well, that requires extensive discussions. Snoke had everybody believe he was near immortal and so certain topics were never touched upon. To address them now takes time.”

“So it’s back to my original question, isn’t it.”

“It is indeed.”

“And that’s the best you come up with? You seriously want me to board the _Supremacy_ , don a robe and sit down on Snoke’s throne?”

“That’s pretty much it, yes. Except for the robe. Please don’t do the robes.”

“You,” Ben says and uncrosses his arms, “are out of your mind.”

“Your mother thinks it’s doable.”

“What.”

“She does. And your father agrees with her.”

“Of course he does,” Ben says dismissively. “I bet he’s already laid a wager.”

“He probably has,” Hux agrees. “But Ben, think about it. You’re strong in the Force, as strong as Snoke, if not stronger. Plus, the top ranks already know you.”

“But Snoke left us behind, Hux. We’ve been gone for, what, almost a year now, right? Do you really think the Order will welcome us back with open arms?”

“Do you think Snoke broadcasted the details of our disappearance?” Hux stands up from his chair and walks around the desk to lean against it, facing Ben. “His innermost circle may have been privy to the exact circumstances. Or maybe not. Snoke never cared a rat’s arse for the pawns carrying out his erratic orders. His reign was absolute. No questions asked.”

Ben lets out a huff.

“Exactly so,” Hux says. “I see you remember. So, let’s say you and I were sent on a mission and Snoke ordered us back to Cloud City to touch base.”

“What kind of mission?”

“Whatever. Seek out new planets to exploit. Identify a new capital to replace Starkiller. Find a new shade of gold for his robes. No questions asked, right? Snoke’s shuttle is attacked by the Resistance upon docking. The Supreme Leader is dead. Long live the Supreme Leader.” Hux spreads his hands. “You heard the guard.”

“He addressed you when he said it.”

“He was confused. Defeated. On his knees. With his helmet off. No-one in his right mind would accept me as Supreme Leader.”

“Don't you want the crown? I always thought your ambition would eat you alive one day.”

“It would have, eventually. Like I said, I think all that’s happened came at the exact right time. We’ve both changed but neither of us has had his personality wiped.” He gives Ben a sharp look. “And don’t you try and tell me otherwise. There’s too much Skywalker in you, and I’m not talking about your uncle.” He adds, grinning, “And you have just enough of your father to think this may actually be fun.”

Ben looks at Hux.

“You really have changed,” he says. “The old Hux would never have agreed to something that’s so utterly unpredictable.”

“And Kylo Ren would have smashed me into a corner already. Or demolished the hotel suite. Probably both.”

Ben harrumphs but sees no reason to deny Hux’ words. He taps his lips, thinking. It’s a crazy idea but Hux is right. It’s the kind of crazy that may actually work, and it’s exactly the kind of crazy that makes the Solo side of him tingle with excitement. Hux had this right, too.

_Damn him._

“Supreme Leader, eh?” he asks.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux confirms. “And remember, we have four praetorians in our custody. Their presence will add a not insignificant weight to your claim. They know who you are and what you can do and they’ve already bent their knee to us. I’m fairly certain they will accept you as their new boss. And if not, well, you’ll come up with an idea how to change their minds.”

“Will you join me in this?”

“Of course I will. You didn’t think for one moment I would leave my men to you? You know perfectly well my officers respond to me, not you. And don’t get me started on Phasma.”

Ben leans back.

“‘Your’ men,” he slowly says. “And ‘your’ officers. You’re already there, aren’t you? Tell me, Hux,” he plucks at an imaginary thread on his sleeve, “how would you like to be my Grand Marshal?”

“Your—” Hux gasps. “I will not report to you, Ren,” he snaps.

“Of course you won’t,” Ben says. “We’re in this together, you and I, yes? I can’t do this alone. We’ll have to operate exactly as we’re doing here, only on a bigger scale. You’ll do the—” he waves his hand, “—uhm, the organisational stuff and politics and so forth, and I’ll weed out the unstable elements.”

It’s an echo of the conversation they had when they took the decision of who would fulfil which role in the administration of Cloud City, and Ben chuckles when he realises it.

“We’ve been here before, remember? When you asked me to be your muscle?”

“What—oh.” A reluctant grin spreads over Hux’ face. “You’re right. Very well. Grand Marshal it is. Ha. Grand Marshal Hux.” He looks as if he’s savouring something especially tasty as he says it. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it. And long overdue, if I may say so.”

Ben jumps up from his chair.

“Let’s call my mom,” he says. “We’ll have to work closely with her. We can’t put the Resistance at risk but we can’t come across proselytising either. No-one will believe us if we start preaching peace, love and harmony.”

“Unlikely,” Hux pushes himself away from the desk. “Very well, let me find a time slot that will work for us. While I do that, will you talk to the praetorians or should I do it later?”

“I will. Oh, and isn’t the ceremony for Perhuk taking place this afternoon?”

“It is. It’s been scheduled for sixteen hundred forty-five standard time.”

“I’d like to be there. He died protecting us and I want to pay my respects.”

“As do I. That reminds me I’ll need to speak with Kelenn because if we’re really doing this, I want her, Sunral and Lenoth with me at all times. You’ll have your praetorians, I’ll have my Zabraks. I only hope they’ll agree.”

******

It’s laughably easy to get the praetorians to swear their loyalty to him.

When Ben presents them with their options, they drop to one knee before him at once and recite some ancient text he’s never before heard. It contains a frightening number of words like ‘faithful’ and ‘obedient’ and ‘proper’ and they swear to serve him ‘without fear or favour’ and ‘on my blood’, and holy Mother of Pearls do they look relieved as they’re kneeling before him. It’s as if he is the answer to their most fervent prayers and when he taps into their minds, they hold perfectly still. Small wonder. They’re probably used to it and their minds lie wide open before him.

Ben is torn between laughter and disbelief. It can’t be that easy, can it? But he detects no trace of treachery, planned or on-going, only fierce loyalty to the Supreme Leader and a near overwhelming gratitude that their days of forced idleness are over.

“Permission requested to wear our helmets, sir.”

It’s the dark-skinned praetorian with the strange eyes, the leader of the four, it would seem. He stares straight ahead, careful to avoid eye contact.

“Permission denied,” Ben says. “And take off your armour, too. I won’t have a quartet of bright red guards following me around before this whole business has been made official.” Now the praetorian does raise his eyes, as if in protest, and Ben holds up a hand. “Everything will be delivered to your quarters where you will be able to clean yourselves up. Your weapons, however, will remain locked away until you have sworn loyalty to the General as well.”

“Supreme Leader—” the man starts but Ben silences him with a look.

“You will swear loyalty to the General as well,” he repeats. “This is not up for discussion. The General is my Force-bonded partner and he will rule by my side as my equal. He has his own guards—you have seen them fight—but I expect you to serve him as you will serve me, should he ever need you. Is that understood?” He puts some Force-persuasion into his words, just to be sure his point is made.

“Understood, sir,” they say in one voice.

“Good.”

He steps back while they remove their armour and signals the Mandalorian female who’s kept watch over them to step closer. He recognises her as Tezz, Kelenn’s second in command, and quickly fills her in on the details necessary to proceed.

“Got it, captain,” she says and steps back, activating her communicator.

With that, he turns on his heels with military precision—Hux would be proud of him—and leads the way to the Grand Bespin with his four praetorians in tow.

******

“You are absolutely certain about this, Ben?” his mother asks. “Given that this is a secure line allow me to admit that I’m more than worried about this. It sounded like something that may actually work while it was nothing but an abstract idea, but now that you plan to go through with it, I’m not so certain anymore.”

“Mom,” Ben protests. He drops all formalities when it’s just the three of them. Four, when his father is present. Which he’s not, not right now. “Do you have a better idea? It’s the only shot we have if we want to do this right.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I. I was glad to be rid of it all but it was naive to think it would suffice to hide away here in Cloud City. It worked while Snoke and the Order thought we were dead but it was only a matter of time. You said so yourself, remember? You mentioned my presence in the Force had changed and he had to find out eventually.”

His mother doesn’t look convinced and so he presses on.

“So he’s found us, we’ve disposed of him and now what? Wait for another Snoke to rise up? For some overly ambitious Order officer to take over? Do you think you can somehow sneak in someone from your inner circle? They’d be found out at once. There’s a few Force-sensitives within First Order ranks and they’re exceptionally well-trained. They’d sniff out an impostor in no time, make no mistake about that.” He takes a deep breath. “Hux and I really are the only ones who could pull this off. He knows the military inside out and won’t have a problem picking up where he left off. Leading is a tedious business, as you of all people should know, and once you see past the glory it’s really a lot of shit admin work if you want to do it right and Hux is brilliant at that.”

Next to him, Hux frowns at ‘shit admin work’.

“You know what I mean,” Ben quickly says. “Budgets and strategies and long-term planning and all. I didn’t mean to say you’re only good at shit work.”

“I know exactly what you mean but thank you for clarifying. Anyway, General,” he shifts his attention to Ben’s mother, “Ben is right. I see no major difficulties installing him as Supreme Leader. Kylo Ren was Snoke’s most reliable right-hand man, the crown prince, if you will, and it would be only logical for him to take over. What we need to do now is establish a clearly defined strategy and, even more importantly, untraceable and impenetrable comm lines. I’ll have my best tech liaise with your staff as you see fit.”

“I don’t doubt your ability to re-insert yourselves at the Order’s command top,” Leia says.

She seems oddly hesitant and Ben cannot fathom out what’s worrying her so. Surely she’s not overly concerned about all of this being dangerous? She’s never been one to shy away from danger or from taking unpopular decisions.

“What is it, mom? Are you…worried about me? Don’t be. I’ve done worse and I’m still alive.”

“That’s not it. It’s—” She looks down, then to the side, and now it dawns on him.

“You’re worried I’ll fall back into the dark side? Is that it?”

She looks up and the worried expression in her eyes tells him he’s right.

“Don’t be, mom. I will have to tap into the dark side, that can’t be avoided, but I’ve learnt to keep in balance. I have Hux now, you know, he’s my anchor and he pulls me back if I fall too deeply.”

“Ben—”

“Mom, no. It will be all right. Ask uncle Luke about the whole anchor business. Have him check on me if it makes you feel better. I won’t mind and I won’t oppose him, I promise.”

“Actually, I have a far better solution.” She presses a button. “Send her in,” she says to whoever is on that other line.

Ben exchanges a look with Hux. _Her?_ he mouthes and Hux gives a shrug. He clearly has no idea, either.

Then a slim young woman comes into view and Ben starts. Hux draws a hissing breath.

Next to Ben’s mother stands…that scavenger girl. The one who’s so surprisingly strong in the Force. The one who’s managed to defeat him. His mother cannot be serious. Ben feels his spine stiffen with indignation. 

“I believe you two have met before,” Leia says. “Ben, this is Rey. She’s been training with Luke for the past year and she will be your liaison. Rey, this is my son, Ben Solo.”

Rey acknowledges him with the barest of nods, resentment in her eyes.

“Ben,” she says. “We meet again.”

“It would seem so,” Ben replies. He feels an all too-familiar anger well up inside of him but Hux places a hand on his arm, warning him to keep himself in check. It works, as it always does, and Ben’s anger drops to a simmering level, still there and ready to flare up but no longer an immediate threat. “And how do you expect us to liaise, mother?”

“Through the Force,” Leia says. “You will find a window and use it to communicate. If you don’t know how, I’m sure either Luke or Rey will walk you through the process.”

“I know how to open a window in the Force, thank you,” he says, icily. “Very well. I suppose she will not only serve as a means to communicate but she will report back to you on how I’m doing, mental-wise, yes?”

“Ben, please understand why this is necessary.”

“I understand perfectly well, mother, and I accept. Am I correct in assuming that you now agree to this plan despite your initial hesitation?”

“I do, yes. What are your next steps? What do you suggest, General?”

Oh, so it’s ‘General’ and no longer ‘Administrator’, eh. His mother sure is adapting quickly.

“Making the first appearance is the most pressing matter at hand,” Hux says. How he manages to stay so calm is beyond Ben. His initial surprise at seeing Rey by Leia’s side has passed and he seems to have accepted her as yet another player in the grander scheme of things. Then again, he’s not been personally humiliated by her. Would he be as calm if Leia had presented that defected stormtrooper instead?

_Does it matter?_

It doesn’t, and so Ben listens to Generals Hux and Organa agree on how to proceed over the first couple of days that are the most crucial.

After the strategy’s been agreed on, Ben’s father joins them and he too expresses his concerns but is considerably more optimistic.

“Just don’t tell me the odds,” he says. “You know how much I hate that. Ben will be all right, Leia. He’s grown up, don’t you see it? And he’s got his Hux by his side. What could possibly go wrong?”

Leia glares at him but chooses not to comment. _Not before Hux and Rey_ , Ben thinks and very nearly laughs. _Poor Dad_.

“It’s not something I would have advised you to do but it does make sense. Take the current when it serves and just go with it. Works for me all the time. How’s your leg, son?”

 

“Take the current,” Hux says when the call has ended. “There is wisdom in that.” He reaches for Ben’s hand and kisses the knuckles. “Are you ready for this, Ben?”

Ben returns the kiss. “Ready when you are. You heard my dad. With my Hux by my side, what could possibly go wrong?”

“I nearly laughed when he said that.”

“So did I. I bet he’s getting an earful right now.”

“I think so, too. I respect your mother a lot, but your father is...something else. I really like him. He has such a beautifully pragmatic approach towards life. We’re plotting the riskiest of takeovers but he’s more concerned to hear about your leg.” He gets up and pulls Ben up with him. “Let’s not dawdle any longer, Supreme Leader. We have the First Order to undermine, the City’s chain of command to re-arrange and I want the _Finalizer_ back. Let’s get to it.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Hux lets his eyes travel across the crowd that has assembled in the _Supremacy’_ s audience section. He used to call it the ‘throne room’ and he still does. It’s ridiculously large, like everything on the _Supremacy_ , like the whole damn ship itself. Everything’s just too kriffing large and pompous for his taste.

He stands next to Ben before the throne. They’re flanked by four praetorian guards who are now sworn to both the Supreme Leader and his Grand Marshal, and the Grand Marshal’s personal Zabrak guard of three stands two steps behind their master, silent and watchful.

“I have been tasked with the duty of informing you that the rumours revolving around the sudden disappearance of Supreme Leader Snoke are true. The Supreme Leader was ambushed and badly wounded upon leaving his shuttle at Cloud City where he had scheduled a meeting with Kylo Ren and myself. As per explicit orders, no immediate action was to be taken before the path before him was revealed without doubt. Any message of a potential weakness was too dangerous to convey as the strength of the First Order is never to be doubted.”

They’ve both slipped into their old roles as if they’ve never been away. Hux has put on his old uniform and Ben is wearing his helmet. Hux snaps his consonants and Ben’s voice is synthesized once more by the vocoder. It’s all as it was. For the audience, anyway. But inside, it’s all different. There’s no going back for either of them. Hux feels it in his heart and Ben’s agreement hums through the bond they now share.

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” he says, invisible overhead speakers carrying his voice into the farthest corners of the large room. “Long live the Supreme Leader!”

Not a sound is heard.

Ben sits down on the throne and takes off his helmet, his face an impassive mask. Hux steps back to stand by his right shoulder.

Then, a roar.

“Long live the Supreme Leader!”

 

From the corner of his eye, Hux sees Ben raise his chin. Hux squares his shoulders.

_Challenge accepted._

 

 

 

THE END 

_…for now._


End file.
